Everything in Between
by FireEdge
Summary: FE6-10. Collection of one-shots for the 'Fire Emblem 100 Challenge'. Multi-genre, multi-pairing. NEW: Throughout the years, Jill had memorized every single rhythm of his heartbeat. HaarJill.
1. Cold Feet: RennacL'Arachel, Dozla

So… I've decided to take up the Fire Emblem 100 Challenge (inspired by Kitten Kisses' attempt). I've always enjoyed the challenge of having to stick with a theme and it seemed like it'd be a great way for me to write different stories that I wouldn't normally do. I don't know if I'll be able to finish all one hundred of them, though! Still, I'm going to try my best.

Anyway, each chapter will take after a theme and they'll be stand-alone one-shots. I don't plan on focusing on just one FE game or pairing, so if you see something that you're not interested in, just wait until next time (it could be totally different). Anyway, here's my first story for FE 100 (which happens to be the LAST theme, but I'm just 'cool' that way)!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Cold Feet**

Theme: #100. Wedding Ceremony

Genre: Romance

Characters/Pairings: Rennac/L'Arachel, Dozla

* * *

The resemblance was uncanny. It was as if his conversation with Dozla two years ago had come to life. It was a bright, sunny day and there was an electrical tension in the air; like the calm before the storm. A thick, red carpet had been rolled down the courtyard, from the castle doors right up to the tall, trellis gates. Doves flew about and servants bustled to and fro, readying the gem-encrusted coach.

Rennac stepped back from the window and carefully drew the curtains closed so that he was enveloped in shadows. He didn't want to look out on that any longer, lest his stomach become more upset. The sight scared him and his head felt light. Maybe it wouldn't have been nearly as bad if he couldn't hear Dozla's words echoing in his head. Oh wait, that _was _Dozla's voice buzzing in his ears.

"What were you saying, old man?" Rennac asked, finally giving the berserker his attention.

"I was just asking you if this wasn't just as you'd imagined. The coach is marvellous isn't it? Just imagine how it'll look when Princess L'Arachel is riding in it! Oh, I'm so happy! I never thought I'd live to see the day she was married!" Dozla exclaimed, his voice beginning to crack.

"Argh! Don't _cry_! The ceremony hasn't even started yet! Wait until the thing starts moving, or until we get to the church!" Rennac said with disgust, beginning to pace around the room.

He was getting more fidgety with every second and he needed to move about. Not like he could sit anyway, his clothes were too restricting. The princess had expressly told him to wear the ridiculous outfit. Underneath the overly decorated coat, he was sporting both a shirt and a doublet, and the layers were making him overheat. It didn't help that they were tight and he could barely move. What if he had to defend himself from an attack? He wouldn't even have time to reach the knife hidden in his boot! L'Arachel had only said: 'You won't need it!'

Of course, he could think of countless situations where he would need a weapon. After their… adventures not so long ago, he was scared to let his guard down. L'Arachel always seemed to attract trouble.

"Rennac, wouldn't you say that it's time to go down now? We mustn't keep Her Highness waiting," Dozla stated, bringing the rogue out of his thoughts. The berserker had completely recovered from his near-breakdown. At his statement, Rennac let out a groan. If only this moment would never arrive.

"Come, Rennac! Princess L'Arachel is waiting! Har har har!" The berserker grabbed Rennac's arm and began to half drag him out of the room and down the hall.

"Why don't _you_ just go and I'll stay here and… rot away or something?" he muttered, giving up on resisting Dozla's pull.

"Don't be silly, Rennac! Princess L'Arachel would be devastated if you were to go bad! You have such an important role to fulfill as well! Har har har, aren't you excited?"

"No, no, not particularly. I actually have a deep feeling of dread right now," he replied with a grimace. "And there's the front doors. I don't think I've ever hated a set of doors as much as I do now."

"Oh look, Rennac! Here comes Princess L'Arachel! Oh, how the people of Rausten will marvel at her beauty! Does she not look stunning, Rennac?" Dozla asked with a happy sigh as said young lady came into their line of vision.

Along with her uncle, Lord Mansel, and several servants and ladies-in-waiting, L'Arachel was slowly making her way down the hall and towards the two men. She wore a long, slim dress made of the most shimmering silk, laced with pearls and small diamonds. A circlet of white flowers sat atop her head of green curls, pinning up her sheer veil. A long, flowing cape that seemed so light that it floated fell from her shoulders and trailed on the floor. She looked every bit the princess she was. When her eyes caught sight of Rennac and Dozla, she flashed them her dazzling smile and he couldn't help but agree.

"Yes, she looks beautiful."

"Well then, Rennac, escort me out into my coach," L'Arachel commanded when her party finally approached them. She proffered him her gloved hand and, just stifling a sigh, he took it gingerly in his. It fitted perfectly in his palm.

The doors opened and Lord Mansel walked out into the dazzling sun, accompanied by a fanfare of cornets. Rennac squinted as he led L'Arachel through the doorway, Dozla in their footsteps. He could hear him beginning to sniffle again. This was drowned out, however, by a sudden roar.

The rogue nearly stopped in his tracks, he was so taken aback. Was that the crowd of people outside the gate making all of that noise? A few moments later, he realized that it was indeed the citizens of Rausten cheering as their princess walked down the steps and towards the white coach. Their cries were so overwhelming that he paused next to the coach door, confused as to what he was supposed to do next.

"Rennac! Open the coach and help me in!" Her voice brought him back and reality finally hit him—hard—as he swung open the door and handed the Princess of Rausten inside. He finally grasped that this was really happening. L'Arachel was getting married… to him.

Climbing into the coach after her, he suddenly felt dizzy. This couldn't actually be occurring. How did _he_, the son of a Carcino merchant, end up being engaged to the princess of Rausten? The Princess of bloody _Rausten_!

"Rennac, stop looking like such a bumpkin and sit up straight! You shan't look so miserable on our wedding day, I forbid it!" she said, waving at the crowds as they began to roll out of the gates. L'Arachel turned back to look at her husband-to-be. "See, I told you that the people would react just fine. Everyone's supporting our marriage."

This of course just made him want to sink lower into his seat. Actually, disappearing altogether would be fine with him as well. Why had he agreed to this? Wait, _had_ he agreed to this?! He was pretty sure that he hadn't. He specifically remembered telling L'Arachel that he would never marry her, not even for one hundred thousand gold!

* * *

"_WHAT?!" Rennac exclaimed, his head whipping around to face the princess. _

"_Though I can understand that you're absolutely delighted beyond words, there's no need to yell, Rennac," L'Arachel replied from her spot on his chair. _

_Not moments before she had waltzed into his room and sat down, watching him clean his knives. Then, out of the blue she had stated that they were going to be married in a month's time. It had taken Rennac approximately three and a half seconds to register what she had said._

"_No, no, no, I am NOT thrilled! What the hell are you talking about?! We are NOT getting married! Where did you even GET an idea like that?" he demanded furiously. Or was he flustered?_

"_Well, I believe that it's still a bit _early _for me to think about marriage, but Uncle wants me to find a husband as soon as possible; something about me settling down…" she said, a slender finger tapping her chin thoughtfully. _

_It wasn't a wonder that her uncle wanted her to settle down! Even after the battle against the Demon King, L'Arachel had gone gallivanting around the country. If she kept that up, she would soon become a laughing-stock! Of course, on each of her little journeys, he was forced to go along, too…_

"_You didn't answer my question! Why would you pick _me_ to marry? Not that I'd marry a self-absorbed princess like you. Also, if you haven't noticed, I'm not a noble—thank god—so it wouldn't work anyway," Rennac said, pacing about his room._

"_Oh, Rennac, how silly of you! I can easily convince Uncle to overlook your commoner blood. We can even give you a title, if that's what you're worried about!" L'Arachel answered with a tinkling laugh. _

"_A title, you say—NO, that's not the point! The point is that I _won't_ marry you!!" he cried, nearly having a heart attack when he realized that he had almost been duped. _

"_As to why I picked you, well… For one, you aren't hard to look at. After all, I can't be marrying someone who can't accentuate my beauty," she continued, apparently not listening to him._

"_What kind of egotistical reasoning is _that_?!" Rennac snapped. This remark, of course, fell on deaf ears._

"_You're also strong, you dance brilliantly and I enjoy your company very much," L'Arachel finished with a smile. "Now is that good enough for you, Rennac?" _

"_No, it's not. Because, like I've been saying, I'm not marrying you. Not for one hundred thousand gold! Do you know how miserable I've been chasing after you as you ran around the country? I've had to save you from ridiculous mess after ridiculous mess! Do you remember that time where I almost became food for those monsters? Then there was that time I nearly drowned pulling you out of that river! Oh, and how could I forget when I took that axe to my arm when that bandit nearly chopped you in two?! You're nothing but trouble, that's what you are!" _

_Rennac would__'ve continued on, but at that moment he made the mistake of looking at L'Arachel. He was expecting to see an indignant look on her face or an expression of mirth, if laughing at his woes could be considered thus. However, her eyes were full of a strange mixture of sadness and acknowledgement, though she wore a small smile. _

"_Yes, and that is precisely why you are the only one who I will marry. Despite everything that has happened you have always come to my aid without a moment of hesitation. After a while, I began to take you for granted. However, one day, I realized that maybe you would get sick of risking your life and then you would leave. At first I ignored this thought but eventually I became more and more afraid that I would wake up and you would have packed your bags and gone. It was then that I realized that I had grown… attached to you. They say that when you love someone, you never want to be parted from them and the very idea of not being able to see them again rips you apart. I may not know entirely what it means to be in love, but I do know that I would like you to stay with me Rennac. That is why I want to marry you."_

* * *

Wait… what had he done after that? What had he said? He couldn't remember. Had he agreed to marry her? Well, he must've if he was sitting in this infernal coach!

"Ah, look, Rennac! There it is! The chapel!" L'Arachel exclaimed, gripping his arm.

Looking up he saw that their procession was drawing up to a tall, glistening white church. It's long, pointed turrets pierced the sky and the sun glittered on its polished marble walls. An immense crowd was gathered all around the entrance and another red carpet covered the front steps. Before he knew it, they had pulled up in front of the chapel.

Rennac's eyes widened, feeling like a deer that had turned its head to see the gaping mouth of a wolf. He had to run! That was the first thought that popped into his head. There was no way he could go through with this; he couldn't marry L'Arachel!

"Rennac, are you going to stand there all day? Come on, get down," she commanded, shoving the rogue through the coach's now open door. He landed on the ground outside with a stumble, and by the time that he recovered himself, L'Arachel had already latched herself to his arm. He was caught, like a rabbit in a trap.

The princess of Rausten stepped forward and Rennac could feel himself being pulled along. If his mouth hadn't suddenly become parched, he would've been yelling at his foolish legs for moving forward. However, all he could do was stare at the dark doorway that they were approaching. As the shadows of the arch swallowed them, he felt his mind go blank.

Everything came to him as if through a veil of fog. He was only vaguely aware of the crowd coming in after them and of walking up to the altar. It was as if it were all a dream. However, as his brain just registered the priest beginning to speak, he was pulled out of this state by the sound of someone dying.

"D-Dozla!" L'Arachel exclaimed as the berserker burst into tears, blubbering into a large handkerchief. He was letting out a kind of half wail, half sob. It was no wonder that Rennac had thought someone was being strangled.

Lord Mansel patted the man on the back awkwardly and many members of the audience burst into good-natured laughter. Dozla dabbed at his hairy cheeks and blew his nose. His tears didn't seem to want to stop, though he was smiling broadly.

It was then that Rennac finally remembered what had happened after L'Arachel's confession. She had been crying, and he had been stunned. He had never before seen a single tear mar her cheeks. Wondering if they were truly real, he had raised a hand to touch her face and discovered that it was indeed wet. Then she had taken his hand in both of hers and, with those tear-filled eyes, she had asked him once more if he would marry her. He had said yes.

Thinking back on it now, he realized that he had been completely tricked. For he also remembered that right afterwards she had embraced him and said: "I knew you would say 'yes', Rennac!" Then she had bolted out of his room and left him frozen and in horror of what he had done.

However, now that he really thought about it, why _had_ he stuck around for so long? Hadn't he always complained about working for her? Then why had he stayed to protect her time and time again? As he pondered, he was unaware of the fact that the priest had started to speak again. The man then directed a question at him and he looked up in surprise.

"Yes?"

"Then we pronounce you man and wife."

* * *

Ummmm, this was originally two pages long, but I figured that I should make it longer. So this is what turned out. I'm pretty happy with it, but I'm not too sure about that little flashback. I didn't really feel like explaining _why_ they were getting married, since I wanted to focus on Rennac's pre-wedding thoughts. For some reason he seems like the kind of person who would run away from his own wedding… Anyway, I haven't played FE8 for a while, so I hope that nothing was out of place. Leave a review and tell me what you thought!

--FireEdge--


	2. Um, a Stork!: Amy, Marcia, Makalov

All right, this one's a little short, and it kinda just… came on a whim. Really, I don't know how I came up with this, but I thought that it'd be fun to write. Anyway, this takes place sometime after Part IV, Chapter 5, but there really aren't any spoilers. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Um, a Stork!**

Theme: #60. Look-Alike 

Genre: Humour

Characters/Pairings: Amy, Marcia, Makalov, Reyson

* * *

Amy's eyes widened and her mouth gaped slightly as her head bent back to stare at the person in front of her. This was the first time that she had ever seen someone with wings. Actually, this was probably the first time that she had ever seen wings as white and luminous as Reyson's. The fact that she had just seen him transform back from his bird form most likely added to her astonishment.

However, though his no-doubt extraordinary transformation should've been the basis of her amazement, it was not. In fact, the cause for her sparkly-eyed stare was something entirely different…

* * *

_The young child waved good-bye to Astrid as the paladin left the inn. Turning around, she saw Makalov let out a long, contented sigh, to which Marcia gave an annoyed glare. Skipping over to the bar, she climbed atop one of the stools and focused her attention on the two siblings._

"_What're you sighing for, you no-goodnik?!" Marcia demanded crossly. "Lady Astrid's way too good for you!"_

"_I don't know what you're talking about! She's clearly in love with me! I say that it's up to _her_ who she thinks is good enough!" Makalov replied, taking another rather timid sip of his drink. Despite his brave words, he still shrank back JUST a little bit at his sister's voice._

"_I can't believe you're drinking already! It's not even noon!" his sister exclaimed. "What the heck does she see in you anyway?! If I were her, I'd have gone for a man like General Geoffrey, or Kieran even! They're both better than a chowderhead like you!"_

"_You know, it'd be great if I were married to someone like Astrid," Makalov said with a sigh. "Could you imagine going home and having a face like that greet you? And she's so kind and generous, too!"_

"_Are you even listening to me?!" Marcia cried, slamming her hands on the counter. "And who'd want to have babies with _you_ anyway?!"_

"_Babies?" Amy murmured to herself. "Miss Marcia, Mr. Makalov?"_

"_Hmm? Oh, Amy, I didn't see you there," said Marcia, her head turning in surprise. "What did you want, munchkin?"_

"_You said that no one would want to have babies with Mr. Makalov, but… how would they get a baby?" she asked, her big eyes innocent and expectant. Marcia's and Makalov's expressions were not quite so eager, however._

"_Oh… Uh… well, you see," the pegasus knight stammered, not knowing what to say. "W-Why don't you ask your mommy to tell you, sugar dumpling?"_

"_But Mommy never tells me when I ask!" Amy protested, pouting._

_The two siblings exchanged looks nervously. How were they going to explain to a six year-old girl where babies came from?_

"_Just tell her the old stork story and leave it at that!" Makalov whispered._

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yeah, just go for it! I'm sure Calill will find _that_ appropriate!" he answered with a shrug._

"_Okay… Well, Amy, when… when two people love each other as much as your mommy and daddy do, the Goddess will bless them with a baby," Marcia said carefully, taking care to keep the expression on her face even._

"_Really?" Amy asked, her mouth agape in wonder._

"_That's right, kiddo. Then the Goddess gets this big stork to bring the baby to the parents," Makalov replied._

"_So a big stork brought me to Mommy and Daddy?" she repeated. "But what's a stork?"_

"_Umm, it's a big white bird with huge wings and a long beak and legs."_

"_Wow! I hope I get to meet Mr. Stork one day!"_

* * *

"Child? Are you well?" Reyson asked, his delicate brows drawing together in concern. He had barely noticed the little girl when he had landed. Perhaps he had scared her with his shifting.

"Do you remember me, Mr. Stork?" Amy asked, finally regaining her senses.

"Ex-Excuse me? A stork?!" the heron prince exclaimed. He wasn't sure whether he should be confused or offended.

"Yeah! You're the stork that brings people babies, right?"

* * *

Sorry, Reyson, but you're the butt end of the joke. I couldn't help myself. Haha, anyway, hope that made you guys smile. Anyway, leave a review and tell me what you think!

--FireEdge--


	3. Dazed: WilFlorina, Wallace

I had a reviewer ask me what the Fire Emblem 100 Challenge was a while back, so I figured I should answer the question here (since it was anonymous). While I don't know the exact origins of this challenge (somewhere on LJ, I think), it's basically a list of 100 themes that you have to use for 100 separate works (be it fanfiction, fanart or whatever).

Anyway, this one is rather different from how I usually write. While I listed it as 'humour', I don't think it ended up very funny. Oh well.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Dazed**

Theme: #67. Intensive Training/Crash Course

Genre: General/Humour

Characters/Pairings: Wil/Florina, Wallace

* * *

It was the middle of the night when Florina first noticed the strange noises. Her tent was dark and she was unable to see; all she heard was someone—or something—panting and grunting. The noises seemed to be coming from outside her tent, relatively nearby. However, she was too busy cowering under her blanket to figure out who or what was causing the sounds. So, Florina spent her night shivering and whimpering. She only fell asleep when the… thing seemed to have disappeared.

The next morning, Florina crawled out of her tent and immediately went to investigate the area between her tent and the next. With sun streaming through the clouds above, Florina was imbued with enough courage to actually follow through with this course of action. However, she found no sign of whatever had been there last night. This was most puzzling, since she had expected there to be footprints… or something. The ground here was soft, after all, since it had rained recently.

After another moment of contemplation, she decided to approach the owner of the tent next to hers. Maybe he had heard the strange noises and could offer an explanation. Despite her curiosity, Florina found herself frozen outside the tent flap, unable to muster the guts to call out his name.

It wasn't so much that Florina was scared of Wil, she had known him for a year now, but he was still a man… and an archer. He was also so cheerful and talkative that she was often left in a daze after an encounter with him. Finally, though, she decided to go for it and she timidly called out his name.

"H-Hello? W-Wil?" she stammered so quietly that no one would hear it even if they were to stand right in front of her. Swallowing, she tried again, except louder (well, to _her_ it was louder). "W-Wil? Are you, um, awake?"

Once again, she was met with silence. Deciding that he was probably asleep, she thought it best not to wake him. Perhaps she would come back later—

"Morning, Florina!" a loud and chipper voice greeted from behind her.

"YEEEK!" she shrieked, jumping a foot in the air while whirling around at the same time. This only resulted in her falling backwards, onto Wil's tent, which brought it down on her head.

"Whoa! Florina, are you okay?" Wil exclaimed, immediately jumping forward, trying to extract the pegasus knight from the ruins of his tent. When he did manage to pull her out, she collapsed into his arms, barely conscious. He supposed that being scared half out of her wits and then having a tent fall on top of her must have added up.

"Hey, Florina," he said lightly, hoping that she didn't actually faint.

"Wha…? YEEK!" Florina shoved herself away from Wil so forcefully that she fell on her butt, luckily missing the wreckage, formerly known as a tent, this time. Wil couldn't help but feel a little bit hurt. Even after all this time, she was still terrified of him?

"Um, are you okay?" he asked, quickly dismissing his earlier thought. No point in dwelling on the matter he supposed; it wasn't her fault that she had androphobia.

"I-I'm sorry! I-I mean, I'm okay, I mean…" she stuttered, her face red with embarrassment.

"Er… should I leave you alone for a second while you, um… recover yourself?" Wil asked uneasily. She looked like a deer with an arrow pointed at her face. A very sharp arrow. Covered in poison.

"If you, um, don't mind… please," she managed to squeak.

"Okay, well, I'll just get some breakfast. Who would've thought running that much would make you so hungry?" he said, half to himself, before wandering off.

As always, talking to Wil had left her in a daze and hence, she had completely forgotten about what she was supposed to ask him. Instead her brain was busy processing _why_ her face felt so flushed. Her heart was beating slightly faster as well. Unable to figure it out (since it couldn't _possibly_ be what she thought it was), she decided that she was probably flustered by her… accident. Shaking it off, she continued her day without a second thought of that morning's incident nor of last night's creature. Though she was quickly reminded of it when night fell once more.

Before Florina could drift off into dreamland, the noises from the previous night returned. The pants and grunts still came from the direction of Wil's tent and it sounded like it, whatever it was, was exerting a lot of effort. However, it didn't sound like it was moving.

As a few minutes past, her fear ebbed very slightly and Florina became curious as to what exactly was making such a fuss. She decided that the best way to find out would be to go look for herself. However, she just couldn't seem to get herself out of her sleeping roll—quite possibly because she was shaking so much.

After a short, internal struggle, Florina finally wriggled out of her bed. She held her breath as she listened intently; it was still out there. Picking up her lance—just in case—she paused at the tent opening, preparing herself for what she might encounter. Then, she stepped outside and whirled around to face the beast, spear-first. She saw nothing.

Confused, Florina looked around in all directions, but was only met with more tents. She also noticed that the noises had stopped. Had the creature disappeared?

The pegasus knight then noticed that there was a light on in Wil's tent. If he was awake, he must've heard the noises. So, once again, Florina found herself at the entrance of his tent, calling his name.

"Oh, Florina?" he said, surprised, as he drew open the tent flap. "Why're you up? Did you need something?"

"Um…" Florina's mouth opened, but she could not speak. That morning's accident returned, full-force, and she felt her face flush. She could distinctly remember how rude she had been when she had shoved him away; he had only been trying to help and she had treated him like dirt. However, as usual, Wil's face held no trace of animosity.

"Florina?"

"Um… D-Did you… Did you hear anything just now?" she finally asked, not quite meeting his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he inquired, crossing his arms and tilting his head.

"It sounded like… like an animal or, uh, something… It was panting and grunting, but I can't find it now."

"Is that why you're carrying your lance?" Wil asked, gesturing at it with a small smile.

"Er… y-yeah," Florina replied, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish.

"Well, anyway, I didn't hear anything. But then again, I was busy, uh, training. I wasn't really paying attention to anything else, so I might've missed it," Wil said, scratching the back of his head.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a strange idea began to form in Florina's brain. However, she couldn't be sure, since it was such a _bizarre_ notion.

"Um, training?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's kind of embarrassing, but I'm training to escape… General Wallace," he replied, saying the last two words in a hoarse whisper, as if he were afraid someone would overhear. "The guy's relentless; he wants me to practise what he's written in his Manual of Knightly Prowess. The stuff in there's crazy! I'm no knight, so there's no way I could do all of that without killing myself. The only way I can keep away from him is to keep myself in shape."

"So you're, uh, training to keep from… training," Florina stated, confused—as she rightfully should be.

"… It sounded better in my head… But, believe me, what I'm doing is _nothing_ compared to what's in that Manual!" he replied fervently. "Still, it's really tiring; I'm panting and sweating after less than fifty push-ups. Maybe I'm just not used to it…"

"P-Panting, you say?" she queried.

"Yeah, it's kinda… sad when you think about it. I _am_ an archer after all, so my arm strength should be better than that. I've also started to jog in the morning to build up my endera-ra—" His sentence was cut short by a huge yawn. "Sorry about that. I'm really tired… All that training and fighting's getting to me, I guess."

"N-No, it's okay! I'm sorry I bothered you," Florina said.

"Oh, but what about that animal? Do you want me to help you find it?"

"Um, I think it's, uh… gone. I don't think it'll come back. Er, g-good night," she replied, ducking back into her tent before he could question her further. At least she had figured out the mystery behind the strange noises, though it wasn't quite what she was expecting…

* * *

Florina awoke the next day to rain drumming on the sides of her tent. From what she could hear, it sounded like it was coming down hard. It would be a bad day for their army if they had to fight. She could already imagine flying through the downpour and squinting to see her enemies. It was almost enough to make her want to crawl back into bed.

After forcing herself out of her sleeping roll, Florina headed towards the mess tent. Upon entering, she realized that it must've been rather early. The cooks had only just started to prepare the morning meal of thick gruel and rather crusty bread and only a small handful of soldiers sat at the collapsible tables and stools. At one table, she saw that someone was slumped over, his head resting on his arms, presumably asleep. As she approached, she recognized the man to be Wil.

"Wil?" she said quietly. No answer. The girl extended a quivering hand to touch his shoulder.

The archer stirred and mumbled something that vaguely sounded like: 'Five more minutes'. His head turned on his arms and his peaceful face was now facing Florina. He then let out a sigh, his eyes moved beneath their lids and they fluttered slightly. A moment later, Florina saw a sliver of brown eyes staring at her sleepily.

"W-Wil?" she said again. She thought that maybe she should let him sleep, but then again he really shouldn't be napping in the mess tent.

"Mmm? Such a… sweet voice… like an angel," he murmured before shutting his eyes again, smiling all the while. However they snapped open again when Hector marched into the mess tent and began bellowing orders. Enemies had been spotted to the north and they were to prepare for battle immediately.

"Oh, what're you doing here, Florina?" Wil asked, as if seeing her there for the first time. "Your face is rather red you know, are you okay?"

"Y-Yes!" she squeaked, turning redder. "Um, g-got to prepare for battle…" Her voice trailed off and she bolted out of the tent.

The raindrops that splattered her face helped to turn her cheeks back to their regular pallor and she chided herself for being so silly. Wil had been asleep when he had said that and it wasn't like he meant anything by it. She knew for a fact that he didn't like her that way and she didn't either she was pretty sure. She had often tried to imagine being in a relationship with a man, but she never succeeded since she the attempt only ended up making her woozy. Still, it _had_ felt nice to receive a compliment like that, even if it was only semi-conscious.

As Florina had predicted, the rain rendered the battle difficult. Her pegasus was having a hard time keeping aloft when rain constantly soaked his wings and if she flew too high, she couldn't even make out the enemies below. On the bright side, the enemy archers were having a difficult time targeting her through the rain. It didn't help that they had to constantly shield their bows, lest the strings become wet. However, this meant that their archers were having the same problems. In fact, she could spot Wil below her being pushed back by several enemy myrmidons.

Swooping down, her pegasus let out a loud whinny as she threw a javelin at one of the swordsmen. She immediately pulled out her steel lance and finished off a second myrmidon, letting Wil take care of the last one.

Pushing her wet bangs out of her eyes, she let Huey land in the muddy grass and take a breather. Wil looked up at her and smiled thankfully. She noticed that he looked exhausted; his breathing was deep and loud and his shoulders slumped.

"Um, are you well?" she inquired tentatively.

"I just feel really tired. My head kind of hurts, too and my vision's starting to blur, but I can't tell if it's me or the rain," he replied with another grin, though it was weaker than the last.

"Should I get a healer?" Florina asked.

"No, I should be able to hold out; the fight's almost over." No sooner had he said those words, Wil tripped and fell face first into the mud. He seemed to flop around a bit, but didn't get up.

"W-Wil!" the pegasus knight cried, jumping off Huey. "Wil!"

The archer managed to raise his head and looked at her sheepishly.

"I can't seem to get up."

"I-I'll carry you to a healer," she said, swallowing her nervousness. It wasn't the first time that she'd had to rescue a man who was injured in battle.

"It's okay, I know that I make you uncomfortable. I'll be good in a second," he replied.

"N-No, I can do it!" Florina answered. Steeling herself, she gestured for Huey to kneel down and she mustered all her strength to help Wil crawl behind her saddle. After settling herself, she felt Wil slump forward and his arms encircled her waist loosely.

"Sorry," he muttered apologetically.

"I-I'm fine!" she peeped, though her body was tense. No matter how many times she had to carry a man behind her, she always felt that slight tinge of fear. Right now, however, she didn't feel afraid. Her stiffness seemed to be caused by the fact that it was _Wil_ she was carrying. This realization didn't make her feel any better, either. "C'mon, Huey, let's find Serra or-or someone."

The lavender-haired knight rose into the air and circled about, searching for a healer. Focusing all of her attention on this task kept her from thinking about the arms that circled her waist and she felt some of her tension slip away. Soon, Florina found the pink-haired cleric and began to fly towards her.

"I found Serra," Florina said to Wil. "How are you, um, holding up?"

"It's not so bad. I think… I might have a bit of a cold. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to run this morning."

"Y-You were t-training? In the _rain_?!" she demanded incredulously.

"Well, I didn't think it'd be so bad," he replied as they descended. Suddenly, as they touched down, she felt him stiffen and he unconsciously tightened his grip around her.

"Oh no, it's General Wallace!"

"W-Where?" she gasped out, very aware of his grip.

"He's with Serra! Quick, fly away! Find Priscilla, or Lucius! Anyone, it doesn't matter!"

"B-But—" she stammered, not entirely sure what to do. She could see that Serra was already starting towards them. The pegasus knight could also feel a buzz start in her head and her face was totally flushed. Wil's arms were tightly wrapped about her waist and her back was pressed against his chest; she could feel his heart beating (or was it her heartbeat?). His breath was warm as it tickled her left ear and she could feel the oxygen catching in her throat.

"Florina! Wil!" Serra called as she ran over. "Who's hurt?"

"U-Uh, um, W-Wil," stuttered Florina as she tried to pry off Wil's arms and help him down. However, this only resulted in both of them tumbling off the pegasus. They landed in the mud, painfully, and Wil ended up on top of Florina. Luckily, she hadn't been crushed. Their fall did attract the attention of a certain general, though.

"Ah, if it isn't young Wil and Miss Florina! What're you laying in the muck for, Wil?" he demanded with a hearty laugh, crouching down in front of them.

"I… I can't move, sir," Wil muttered, trying, in vain to push himself off Florina. The pegasus knight herself was rather stunned from the fall, and hadn't quite registered the situation yet.

"You can't move?! Has this battle already worn you out? What a weakling you are! See, this is what you get for trying to skip out on my training! No worries, though, we'll get you started first thing tomorrow at the crack of dawn! Bwa ha ha ha ha!" The general then slapped Wil heartily on the back before clanking off.

Apparently the combination of his exhaustive training, the battle, the dread of Wallace's threat and his 'friendly' thump on the back was enough to make Wil black out. At about the same moment, Florina had recovered from her dizzy spell. Of course, she then became aware of the archer that was on top of her. She immediately fainted.

* * *

After seeing the theme: "Intensive Training", I immediately thought of the supports between Wil and Wallace. So I knew that this one-shot would be about them, though I wasn't really sure _what_ it was going to be about exactly. Then, while I was on my trip, I decided that I would just write and see where it went (I also decided to stick Florina in there), and _this_ is what happened. And yes, I know, Wil's an idiot. But that's why we love him.

Anyway, it's not so much that I'm dissatisfied with it, but… Well, I don't know what to make of it, so you guys tell me. Until next time!

--FireEdge--


	4. Princess Lethe: Ranulf, Amy, Lethe

For some reason or another, I've had the idea 'Princess Lethe' stuck in my head. It makes no sense what-so-ever, but I felt that I needed to write it. Mostly because it seemed like it would be a lot of fun. So, once again using Amy as a convenient plot device, I came up with this… story (in every sense of the word). Enjoy.

Oh, and this takes place in Part IV, Chapter 5 and Calill is NOT in Tibarn's group. There's a TEENSY bit of a spoiler if you haven't gotten to Part IV in RD yet.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Princess Lethe**

Theme: #71. That Cute Child 

Genre: Humour

Characters/Pairings: Ranulf, Amy, Lethe

* * *

"All comfy?" Ranulf asked as Amy nestled into his side.

"Yup! You have such a fuzzy tummy!" she said.

"I do, don't I?" the cat replied with a small smile. "Well, I'm blowing out the lamp now. Are you ready?"

"No! Wait!"

"Yeees?" he drawled, turning his feline eyes towards the little girl.

"Tell me a bedtime story, Mr. Kitty Cat! Pleeease?" Amy pleaded.

"Hmm, I don't know. I don't really know too many good stories," Ranulf answered hesitantly. "Though I suppose that I _could_ make one up real quick."

"Yay! Story time! Story time!" the child cheered, clapping her hands together.

"Okay then, what kind of story would you like to hear?" Ranulf asked, hoping that her answer would give him some ideas. As of the moment, his brain was drawing a blank.

"One about a princess! And a prince! And then they live happily ever after!"

"Ah, a fairytale, eh? Well, I think I can do that…" the cat mumbled, mostly to himself. "All right, let's get started, shall we?"

"Okay." The little girl snuggled closer to his side and propped her head up on her crossed arms, which rested lightly on his back.

"Umm… Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of… of Gal… yes, the Kingdom of Gal, there lived a beautiful princess," Ranulf started, struggling with every word. Making up a story on the spot really was tougher than it looked.

"What was the princess' name?" Amy asked suddenly.

"Name? Oh, er…" A good question indeed. He considered Elincia, but quickly discarded the idea; it was too predictable. Leanne? But then, who would be her prince? Maybe Leanne wouldn't make too exiting a heroine anyway… Sure, she was tougher than most herons were supposed to be, but she still was rather delicate. Somehow it just didn't seem appropriate to have her go on some rough and wild adventure (even if it was made-up).

Then, an idea hit him. It was a dangerous and out-there idea. In fact, it would probably be the end of him if the involved party were to find out. Still, it _would_ make a _very_ interesting story…

"Lethe. Her name was Princess Lethe. Anyway, one day, the peace in the Kingdom of Gal was broken by the evil Demon King Skri—" Ranulf paused. _That _might not be too smart of an idea. He probably shouldn't push his (though bountiful) luck. Just in case…

"Demon King Skree? That's a funny name!" Amy commented with a giggle.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Demon King Skree. Well, he's named that because… he has a special attack where he lets out this scream that paralyzes his enemies. The shriek sounds like a loud 'SKREE!' so they call him Demon King Skree."

"Oooh! So what does he do? Does he kidnap Princess Lethe?!"

"Well… not quite. The Demon King Skree wanted to kidnap Princess Lethe _and_ her younger sister, Princess Lyre. You see, he wanted a beautiful queen to help rule his demon lands. However, he couldn't decide which princess he liked more. So, Demon King Skree decided to kidnap BOTH princesses!"

"Oh no!" Amy gasped, her eyes wide with anticipation.

"BUT, he only managed to take Princess Lyre! Princess Lethe managed to escape, and the Demon King returned to his castle with Princess Lyre. The king and queen of Gal were worried sick about their daughter, and so they sent the bravest knight in the kingdom, Sir... uh, Kyza, to rescue her."

"Is he a knight in shining armour?" the little girl asked excitedly.

"The shiniest. He took good care of his equipment. Sir Kyza was a very dedicated knight," Ranulf replied solemnly, which made the girl giggle again.

"So, does he rescue Princess Lyre and then sweep her off her feet?"

Ranulf quickly turned his laughter into a kind of cough that sounded like he was choking. The thought of Kyza carrying a love-struck Lyre was enough to make him die of mirth. Unfortunately, that was not an option at the moment, seeing as he had to save the world and such from a vengeful goddess…

"Sorry, hairball," he gasped out after recovering from his fit. "Ah, where was I? Oh yeah, the king and queen sent Sir Kyza to the Demon King's castle. But a week passed and he still did not return. Princess Lethe became impatient and decided to set out for the castle herself. However, the king and queen had a feeling that she would do that, so they ordered all the guards to stop Princess Lethe if she tried to exit Castle Gal."

"But Princess Lethe gets out, right?"

"Of course she does! You see, Princess Lethe was very smart, so she snuck out through the kitchen. However, she ran into two servants. They worked in the kitchen and immediately tried to stop her. But the princess forced her way past them and ordered the two not to get in her way. Since they couldn't stop the princess, the two servants decided that they wanted to go with her. The princess knew that she couldn't fight the Demon King on her own, so she let them come with her."

"What were the two servants' names?" Amy asked.

"You sure like to know their names, don't you?" Ranulf remarked with a sly smirk. "Well, just so you know, their names were Ranulf and Amy!"

"Really?!"

"You bet. Aside from being dashingly handsome and adorably cute, Ranulf and Amy proved to be a big help to Princess Lethe. Demon King Skree found out that Princess Lethe was coming to his castle, so he sent out his minions to capture her. But Ranulf was a good fighter and Amy knew how to use magic, so they defeated the minions easily and the three of them soon became good friends."

"And does Princess Lethe and Ranulf fall in love?" the little girl asked eagerly.

"I thought that you wanted the princess to marry a prince," said Ranulf, nudging the girl with his nose, causing her to fall over. Amy laughed as she rolled onto her back.

"But this is different!"

"Actually, Ranulf did fall in love with Princess Lethe," the laguz answered with a wistful smile. No harm in telling a little girl, he supposed. She would forget everything in a few days and it would've been like nothing had ever happened. "Not only was she beautiful, he discovered that she was brave, proud and, uh… did I say proud? Anyway, Ranulf knew that servants couldn't marry princesses. Either way, Princess Lethe was too focused on rescuing her sister to notice Ranulf's feelings. However, love problems were soon forgotten when they were within a day of Demon King Skree's castle."

"What about Sir Kyza? What happened to him?" Amy interrupted.

"Now, now, be patient; I was just getting to that," Ranulf lied. He had completely forgotten about Kyza. "As it happened, Sir Kyza couldn't defeat the Demon King, but he, er… DID find his weakness. What Skree couldn't stand the most was, um…"

Ranulf paused. He had hit an impasse. Starting to panic a bit, he quickly cast his heterochromic eyes about the tent. However, nothing came to him. Uh oh.

"What was his weakness?" Amy inquired, tugging at his fur.

"Why, it was… it was… blankets, I mean, wool! No, sheep! His weakness was sheep! He couldn't stand their, um… bleating," he managed to fumble out. Wait, _what_ did he just say? "So, um… Sir Kyza, after his defeat, had rounded up a big flock of… sheep. Once Princess Lethe, Ranulf and Amy met up with him, he explained his plan to them. Princess Lethe would lure him out, and then they would set the sheep on him. While he was distracted, they would attack all at once and finish him off."

"So, does it work? Do they defeat Demon King Skree?" she asked, very excited now.

"Of course they do! The plan worked perfectly. As soon as Skree was distracted by the sheep, Sir Kyza, Ranulf, Amy and Princess Lethe all attacked the Demon King together. With their combined strength, he didn't stand a chance!"

"Yay! They beat the bad guy!" Amy cheered, clapping her hands in delight. "Was Princess Lyre safe?"

"Yes, Sir Kyza ran in and carried her down from the tower she was trapped in. When they returned to Castle Gal, Princess Lyre appointed Sir Kyza as her personal bodyguard. Princess Lethe, Ranulf and Amy were thrown a huge banquet to celebrate their victory. Then they lived happily ever after," Ranulf finished, only slightly registering how lame of an ending (and story) it was.

"What about Ranulf and Princess Lethe?" Amy demanded, obviously unsatisfied (which wasn't very surprising).

"Well… Princess Lethe didn't really know much about love, so she didn't notice that Ranulf liked her. However, Ranulf would forever stay by her side, so maybe one day they'll get married," he answered with an amused grin. Wouldn't _that_ be a sight? "Anyway, that's the end of the story, so why don't we go to sleep now?"

"Hmm, okay," Amy replied with a yawn. "Good-night, Mr. Ranulf."

* * *

Amy stifled another yawn as she followed Lucia into the mess tent. When she had woken up that morning, Ranulf had already left. Lucia had been there instead, telling her that she could see him later. For now they were going to go get something to eat.

As they entered the tent, Lucia sat Amy down at a table before walking off to fetch some food. While waiting, Amy looked at the people around her. At one table, she recognized several of the Crimean Royal Knights and was about to go say hello when she heard someone talking at the table behind her.

"Lethe, are you going to eat that?"

Lethe? Amy immediately turned around saw several laguz seated around another table.

"No, you can have it," an orange-haired cat replied.

_Is that…Princess Lethe?! Wow, she sure is pretty! No wonder Mr. Ranulf fell in love with her!_

Amy suddenly remembered something that Ranulf had told her. He had said that Princess Lethe wasn't good with love and so she didn't know that he liked her. Biting her bottom lip, Amy pondered what to do. Then an idea struck her. She could _tell_ Princess Lethe that Ranulf liked her!

Scampering over to the group of laguz, Amy reached up and lightly tugged on Lethe's ribbon. The female cat looked down at the beorc girl in surprise, her purple eyes blinking.

"Psst! Mr. Ranulf is in love with you!" Amy hissed as she beckoned for Lethe to lean down.

"Wh-Wh-What?!" Lethe exclaimed, flushing furiously.

"It's true! He said that you were beautiful and brave and proud! And he said that he was in love with you!" she chirped. "Oh, 'cept he said that you weren't very good with love, so you never noticed…"

"What's wrong, Sis?" Lyre asked from her other side.

"Oh!" Amy gasped. "Are you Princess Lyre?"

"Princess? Aww, that's so cute!" Lyre cooed, crouching down in front of Amy to examine her.

"Are you and Sir Kyza going to get married?" Amy asked, almost bouncing in all of her excitement. She couldn't believe that she was seeing the characters from the story for real! It was like a dream come true!

From his spot across the table, Kyza choked. The poor tiger was turning blue as he desperately tried to regurgitate the piece of food stuck in his throat. Lyre on the other hand was a distinct shade of chalk. Mordecai could only look from red face to blue face to white face in confusion.

However, Lethe finally recovered from her shock and quickly deduced the culprit behind the little girl's fantasy.

"RANUUULF!!"

Across the camp, in the leader's tent, Tibarn and Elincia looked up in surprise.

"Is that someone calling your name, Ranulf?" Tibarn asked.

"Was it? I heard a knell," Ranulf replied as he slinked under the table in dread.

* * *

And the moral of the story is: don't underestimate little kids. Or tell stories that you don't want other people to hear about. Seriously, I was making up Ranulf's story as I wrote, so I'm sorry if it's really… weird. Anyway, I had a _ton_ of fun writing this, so I hope that you guys had fun reading it. Any feedback is appreciated, so leave a review!

--FireEdge--


	5. Talking to a Wall: Gerik

After replaying FE8 recently, I've realized that Gerik's Mercenaries greatly amuse me. Maybe it's because they totally remind me of Greil's Mercenaries and I just absolutely adore them. Anyway, this is my take on what would happen if they were to discuss a mission. I then determined that something like this could happen… Oh, and I decided to include Ewan (who's sort of part of the gang) and Saleh, if only to add more characters.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Talking to a Wall**

Theme: #85. Strategy Conference

Genre: General

Characters/Pairings: Gerik, Tethys, Marisa, Ewan, Saleh

* * *

At one point or another, Gerik had stopped holding strategy meetings. Whenever he received a job, he usually just picked a few members of his mercenary group before briefly telling them what the mission was. Then they would head out and do their thing. As long as the job was done, he didn't really care how they did it.

However, he had recently received a rather complex demand and he thought that it would be wise to discuss a plan of action. As a result, he was now standing at the head of a table in some obscure room (which obviously hadn't been used recently due to the distinct layer of dust that covered the furniture) in their base. Seated on either side of said table were Tethys, Marisa, Ewan and Saleh.

Smoothing down the map that he had pinned to the wall, Gerik turned to face the four sets of eyes staring at him. Or were they staring past him? He couldn't really tell, since none of them really met his gaze. It was rather unnerving and he found that he didn't really know what to say next.

"Er… Right, so since this is a stealth mission and not a job where we can just hack and slash our—"

"Or burn!" Ewan chirped.

"Or burn our way through, I thought it might be a good idea to, well, make a plan," Gerik finished. The mercenary paused, awaiting a response from the group. He was met with silence and blank stares.

"… Okay… So, this is a layout of the building we're supposed to infiltrate," he said, realizing that no one was going to respond. "Apparently it's the hideout of a group of thieves of some renown. A recent victim of their pilfering contacted me the other day and asked us to retrieve his stolen goods."

Gerik stopped again, anticipating that someone (namely Ewan) would interrupt to ask what they were looking for. Much to his surprise, no answer came. Glancing over at the table, he saw that they were still looking at him. Apparently he had their attention, so their silence was rather odd.

"And in case anyone was wondering, the objects we're looking for are a golden hand-mirror with a tear-shaped ruby on the back, a silver jewellery case filled with… well, jewellery I suppose, and a small shield that serves as a family crest. The emblem is of two crossed swords over a wreath of leaves."

Still no response. He was beginning to wonder if they had all fallen asleep with their eyes open and weren't listening to him at all. Then he saw Marisa blink and Ewan lightly tapping his fingers on the table; okay, so they _were_ awake.

"… Since this is supposed to be a get-in, get-out with the loot kind of job, I figured we would only need the five of us. Of course, there will be guards, so be prepared to fight—though I'm sure that I don't need to tell you that. Also, if you could, try and keep a low profile so that we don't have to end up battling the entire clan of thieves just to get out of there. Anyway, this here is the entrance we'll be using…"

Marisa had already studied the map and memorized it within five seconds of Gerik putting it up on the wall. She had then drifted off into her own thoughts since it was obvious that he was asking them to go retrieve something in the room marked with a big, red X. Really, there wasn't anything to discuss and she didn't understand why their chief was making such a big fuss about it.

While the myrmidon didn't listen to his words, her eyes were intently focused on Gerik's face—or more precisely, his mouth. She found it very intriguing how his mouth made different shapes when he spoke and the young woman couldn't help but notice how the muscles in his jaw and neck rippled when he talked…

Meanwhile, Ewan was also lost in ponderings of his own. His mind kept replaying a song that he had heard the night before. He had been wandering the streets when he had stumbled across a small group of street musicians. They had played the loveliest tune and the singer had possessed a songbird's voice. However, this morning, when he had returned to listen to them again, they were already gone.

So, the young mage began to wonder if there could be some way to preserve that song. Perhaps it could be somehow recorded in some sort of book, with magic. Then, every time he wanted to listen to it, he would only need to open the book and it would play back the song…

Unlike Ewan, Saleh's mind had achieved more refined thoughts. That is if you counted Valega as thinking. At that very moment, the native of Caer Pelyn was wishing that the world were in such a state that thievery would be obsolete. He himself lived a humble life and wanted nothing. By transcending material needs, he hoped that the world would one day do so as well.

However, it seemed that that time had not yet come, for those thieves stole valuables to augment their own riches. In addition, the man that had hired them was just as bad; he was obviously attached to these objects enough that he would pay someone to retrieve them. Ah, if only the world were less greedy. For now, though, he would continue to practise Valega, in hopes of making the world a better place…

Tethys on the other hand, unlike her comrades, was listening to Gerik. Sort of. While his words did pass through her ears, only a few key words actually registered into her head—none of them important. Her eyes drifted from Gerik to her companions continually throughout his speech (which was currently about who would take which route back or something along the lines of that). One minute, her ruby orbs would be focused on Gerik's face as he spoke, the next, they would be contemplating one of the others.

The dancer noticed immediately that no one was really paying attention to their chief. Ewan was obviously daydreaming, as he so often did, no doubt concocting some sort of inane, though clever, idea. Saleh seemed to be in some sort of trance, lost in the depths of his mind and Marisa was blatantly staring at Gerik. Tethys smiled and tucked this tidbit of information into a corner of her brain to use later. It was always fun to tease the other woman.

"… So, everyone got that?" Gerik asked, turning to face his companions now that he had finished explaining the plan.

Four sets of eyes flickered towards his face and briefly met his gaze before flitting away again. He could've sworn that they had been surprised to hear him address them…

"Were you guys even listening to a single word I said?" he demanded, mildly irritated.

"Yes, Chief! X marks the spot," Marisa replied.

"Oh yeah, got it! Burn through 'em and grab the treasure!" added Ewan.

"Of course, Gerik. We will teach the louts their lesson; they will never steal again," Saleh answered.

Then, before Gerik could question their very questionable answers, the four of them stood up and strode out the door. Tethys was the last to exit and before she crossed the threshold, she turned and smiled.

"Don't worry, Chief, we've never let you down before, have we?" With that, she followed her companions out of sight.

Gerik blinked and sighed. _This_ was why he never held strategy meetings; no one ever listened. Still, he couldn't help grinning, since he knew that what Tethys had said was right.

* * *

Yeah, so I don't know how well I characterized them. I've never written any of these characters before, so feedback is very welcomed. It just seemed like it'd be interesting and fun to write about this group. Oh, and I kinda winged the whole Valega thing. It's a pretty hard concept for me to write about accurately. Also, if you didn't get Ewan's "daydream", go read his supports with Dozla and that might clear things up. So, a cookie for anyone who can guess what Ewan was imagining. Anyway, I'm not sure if the fact that none of them were listening to Gerik is IC or not, but I thought that it suited them in some kind of weird way (and that'd it'd be funny).

--FireEdge--


	6. Memories: GeoffreyNephenee

This one-shot's been lying around unfinished for over a month now, but I finally got 'er done. At first I was considering making this a full-fledged multichapter, but I changed my mind. Instead it just ended up being an incredibly long one-shot. Oops.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Memories**

Theme: #41. Noble and Commoner

Genre: Romance

Characters/Pairings: Geoffrey/Nephenee

* * *

Even the thundering of his horse's hooves upon the hard gravel road wasn't enough to drown out the voice in Geoffrey's head. It mocked him and laughed at him. It reminded him over and over again that it was _his_ fault. _He _could've stopped that assassin.

_But I did!_ he protested.

_Then why is she confined to bed, struggling for every breath? _the voice sneered.

_At least she's alive, _Geoffrey replied, though his response sounded weak.

_Yes, but for how long? That's a pretty potent poison running through her veins. Who knows, she might be dead when you return._

The thought made him panic. He twisted his horse around so fast that the beast nearly fell. Geoffrey threw caution to the winds as he stampeded back towards Melior. He did not see the rut, caused by the hundreds of wagons that traveled that road, until his horse misplaced a hoof. The animal let out a shriek as it toppled. There wasn't enough time to feel fear as the ground rushed up to meet him and the last thing he was aware of was his head hitting the earth.

* * *

He felt someone shaking him. They were telling him to wake up. He didn't want to awaken; the darkness was so soothing. If he did, he knew that he would be met with pain. So he ignored them. However, the shaking persisted and the darkness began to recede as his eyes involuntarily began to open. He immediately wished that they had not, for the bright sun pierced his eyes and his head felt like it had been trampled on.

"Thank Ashera! For a minute, I didn't think yer eyes would open," a man with a thick country accent said, slowly helping him to sit.

"M-My head," he groaned. His vision blurred and black spots swam before his eyes as he shifted into a sitting position.

"I'm not surprised. I reckon ya took some kinda nasty spill. The poor brute broke its neck," the man replied, jerking his head at the dead horse.

"… Where am I?"

"Road from the capital," the man answered. "Can ya stand?"

"I… I don't know," he replied, testing his legs. They seemed to be in working order; only his head was in excruciating pain.

Looking up, he studied the man crouched beside him. He seemed to be in his late forties or early fifties, with deep wrinkles in a high forehead tanned by constant exposure to the sun and a short moustache covered his upper lip. By the way he was dressed he could tell that he was a farmer.

"Yer head's bleedin' a bit. My village, Ohma, ain't too far from 'ere. Let's get ya to my place an' get ya fixed up 'fore anything. Name's Jacob, by the way. What's yours?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

"… I don't know… or rather, I… I don't remember."

"Ya don't remember?" Jacob repeated, frowning. "That _was_ a nasty fall. Well, no helpin' it, I guess. Here, let me help ya into the ol' wagon. I'll take ya to my house an' we'll go from there. How's that sound?"

"Th-Thank you."

* * *

After having his head cleaned and bandaged by Jacob's wife, Liza, he was given a large bowl of homemade stew and a chunk of fresh baked bread. He ate quietly as Liza, a stout and slightly plump woman with short brown hair, fussed over him. Although, miraculously, he had broken no bones, one of his sleeves and a pant leg was ripped, thus he received many cuts and scrapes.

When he had finished his food, Liza re-entered the kitchen with a shirt and trousers. She then asked him to remove his old clothes so that she could clean his cuts. He couldn't help but flush.

"Oh, that's so cute; yer shy! Don't ya worry, I'll be quick an' you'll be dressed an' all dignified in a jiffy!" she said with a laugh.

True to her words, she cleaned and bandaged his scrapes in record time and he was soon dressed in her husband's clothes.

"They're not nearly as nice as yer pretty things, but I must say that they do suit ya," Liza remarked.

"Thank you. I'm very grateful for yours, and Jacob's, hospitality," he replied solemnly.

"Why, even yer words are fancy! Ya must be a lord or something!" she said.

"I-I certainly don't feel like one," he answered with a small, sheepish smile.

"Well, ya don't got the hands of one," she replied as her bright eyes fell on his palms, noticing his calluses. "Got the hands of a good, honest workingman. Anyways, do ya remember anything 'bout yourself? I know Jacob said ya took a spill…"

"No… but…" He furrowed his brows and racked his brain. For a second, something had come to him. A name. _His _name. "G-Geoff…"

"Geoff? Is that yer name, darlin'?" Liza asked anxiously, seeing the pained look on his face.

"I… I think so… Yes, that's my name. Geoff…"

"Well! I think that's a mighty fine start!" Liza exclaimed. "Now, ya look like a plough-horse after a long day in the fields. I reckon ya need a good night's rest."

She then showed him into a small room with a cot. Apparently it was a spare room that used to belong to their now-grown son, and since he'd moved out already he could stay in it as long as he needed to. After thanking her once more, he collapsed onto the bed and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

When he woke up, Geoff realized that his head was feeling much better. It still throbbed, like a headache that wouldn't go away, but it was bearable. For some reason, he felt that he had just gotten the best sleep he'd ever had in a long time. Looking out his window, he determined that it was about dawn; he had slept since the previous afternoon.

Getting out of bed with a wince as his bruised muscles protested, he walked into the kitchen, wondering if anyone else was awake. Liza was indeed up and was busy baking. She looked up from her kneading as he walked in.

"Oh, ya look much better! I knew rest would do ya good!"

"Yes, I feel much better. So, Jacob's already working, I take it?" he replied, sitting down in a chair that she offered.

"He's out in the fields," she replied with a nod as she put a few thick slices of bread covered with jam along with a cup of milk in front of him.

Geoff ate his breakfast quickly; he was hungrier than he thought. After he drank the last of the milk, he realized that he didn't know what to do. During the night, he still had not regained any more of his memories and now he had no idea what he was supposed to do next. What if his memory never came back?

Shaking his head, Geoff stood up. Whatever happened, he knew that he couldn't just sit there and do nothing. He needed something to keep him occupied.

"Liza, is there anything I can do?" he asked. The woman must've noticed the desperation in his voice, for she gave the question much thought.

"Well, for now, I need some things from the market."

"Which way is it?" he asked eagerly.

* * *

Nephenee let out a grunt as she hefted the flour sack in her right arm. The bag was proving difficult to carry with one arm, but her other hand was occupied with a basket filled with various goods. Still, if she walked slowly, she should be able to make it home all right.

"C'mon, Nephenee, ya took down hundreds of Daein soldiers; a bag of flour should be nothing!" she chided herself as she precariously made her way out of the market.

As she started down the lane, she noticed that someone was heading her way. She wasn't the only one who had noticed the man; everyone who was nearby stared at him, but he didn't seem to notice. In a village as small as Ohma, strangers and travellers were easy to spot. This man was most certainly a newcomer. Despite his worn and humble attire, he walked straight and tall, exuding an aura that indicated he was more than a common peasant.

Nephenee noticed a trio of young girls, a little younger than herself, whispering to each other, shooting the stranger furtive glances. The young woman smiled; she had known the three girls sine they were babies and she knew how much they enjoyed gawking at the young men. Taking another look at the stranger, she had to admit that he was indeed handsome. Then she realized that he also looked very familiar. It took her several seconds, by which he was less than ten feet away from her, but her brain finally clicked.

"G-G-General Geoffrey?!" she exclaimed, her bag of flour dropped to the ground in her surprise.

Everyone, including the stranger, turned to stare at her. Nephenee could feel her face flush and she quickly lowered her head and let her hair cover her embarrassment. Despite her strange outburst, the rest of the villagers resumed their business with only a shake of their heads. Looking up, she saw that Geoffrey had gone. Glancing behind her, she was surprised to see that he was not walking down the road. Turning back she let out a yelp as she came face to face with the aqua-haired man. He was holding her sack of flour.

"Um, you dropped this, miss," he said once she recovered herself. "This is rather heavy. I'm surprised that you could carry it with one arm."

"I-I was in the army, so I trained a lot—Wait! General Geoffrey, why are ya, I mean, you here?" she stammered, trying to speak properly in front of the noble (her lessons with Calill had stuck… somewhat).

"You said that name before," he stated, frowning. "I suppose that my name could be Geoffrey… Geoff could be the abbreviation… But I'm certainly no general."

"W-What?" Nephenee asked, staring at him dumbfoundedly.

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else," he replied gently.

"B-But, you ARE him!" she spluttered. "I'd recognize ya anywhere! D-Don't you remember me? It's Nephenee! We fought together last year, ta free Crimea."

"I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about," he answered with another frown.

She knew that he probably didn't mean it, but his reply hurt. Back in the army, she had talked (sort of) with the paladin several times. He had always been very friendly and she knew for sure that he knew her name and face. Had he already forgotten her? Wait…

"Did ya say yer, ah, _not_ General Geoffrey?" she asked.

"Yes, that is indeed what I said."

"Yer not from Melior?"

"Actually, I don't know," he answered. "I, er, I've lost my memory, you see. I only remember my name: Geoff."

"Ya lost… yer… yer _memory_?" she exclaimed, bewildered. That explained everything! "W-Well, I dunno what happened, but I do know that yer General Geoffrey, commander of the Crimean Royal Knights and the queen's right-hand man! No doubt about it!"

"You seem so sure, but… I don't feel like this person you're describing," Geoff answered. "Either way, I don't remember being any kind of general. Not that I remember _anything_, I suppose…"

Nephenee was at a loss for words. Did Geoffrey seriously lose his memory? Judging by the perplexed look he was giving her, she supposed that he had. Still, the bigger question was why he was here.

"Er, General—"

"Geoff. Call me Geoff, please," he interrupted.

"Oh, um, that don't seem right… disrespectful towards yer superiors and all," she mumbled under her breath, but he was giving her a look that reminded her of a sodden puppy. It was rather disconcerting seeing the usually dignified paladin make such a face. Somehow though, it didn't seem totally out of place; he _was_ rather like a lost dog at the moment. "Al-All right, I'll call ya Geoff. B-But just fer now! Until yer memory's back."

"Thank you," he replied, obviously relieved, and he gave her a smile that made her heart melt, much to her dismay. She should _not_ be thinking that way!

"A-Anyway, why're you in Ohma?"

"Well, I took a fall on the road, that's how I lost my memory, I suppose. Then Jacob found me and brought me here," he explained.

"Yer stayin' with Jacob an' Liza?" she asked, surprised. Her own home was only two farms away.

"Yes. They've been very kind. In fact, I'm supposed to be getting her a bag of flour and some sugar. Ironic, hmm?" he remarked wryly, hefting the bag in his hands.

"O-Oh no! Have you been holdin' that the whole time?" Nephenee exclaimed. She reached out to take the bag from him, but Geoff shook his head.

"It's heavy; let me carry it for you."

"N-No! I-I couldn't! I can carry it!" she protested, blushing at the offer. The idea was so… chivalrous that it was almost embarrassing. She'd never had someone offer their help like that before.

"I won't take no as an answer."

"All… All right," she agreed reluctantly.

"Well, where do you live, Nephenee, was it?" he asked as they began to walk.

"Yeah, it's Nephenee… and um, my house's not far from Jacob an' Liza's."

"You have a very unique name. Very pretty," Geoff remarked.

"You said that the first time we met," Nephenee replied.

"Did I?" he asked, sounding a bit surprised. Then he nodded to himself, as if he approved.

* * *

"Nephenee? Of course I know her! She's a lovely lass! Always helpin' her ma and whenever anyone needs someone to watch the lil'uns she's willin' to lend a hand," Liza responded. "Why she even joined the militia last year an' she ended up fightin' with General Ike an' the Queen herself!"

"… I… I think I fought with them, too," Geoff said suddenly.

Something flickered in his mind when he heard Ike's name. A flash of steel, the war cries of men and the whinny of horses. War, battles… He felt that he was familiar with them. Perhaps Nephenee was right. Had he really been a general?

"So you were a soldier, eh?"

"I suppose… Actually, Nephenee said that she knows me. Apparently, we met during the war… She said that I was one of the generals of the army," he added, feeling uncomfortable.

"A general! Oh my, I knew you were somethin' special! But a general!" Liza exclaimed.

"But I still don't remember anything," he said. "In fact, I don't feel like this great general at all. I feel like… like I don't deserve it."

"Nonsense! I've only known ya for a day, but I can already tell that yer a good boy!" Liza replied firmly. "Though I suppose yer not really a boy anymore. Anyways, I reckon it'd be a good idea if ya spent some time with Nephenee. She might be able ta help ya get yer memory back."

Geoff thought about the notion for a moment. When put into perspective, it wasn't a bad idea; he had fought with her last year, so she was bound to know _something_ that could trigger his memory. From what he'd seen of her, Nephenee seemed like a friendly, down-to-earth girl. Perhaps it would be worthwhile to seek her company.

* * *

Following the directions given to him by Liza (not that any really needed to be given since he was just going down the road), Geoff soon arrived at Nephenee's home. The farmhouse was rather small, but there had been so many extensions added on that the end product was rather larger than most of the houses he'd seen so far. According to Liza, they had a large family.

The house blocked any view of the field behind it, but Geoff could already make out the tops of several trees. Apparently, Nephenee's family owned the local apple orchard. While their land wasn't necessarily vast, their trees gave a high yield; enough to provide apples to Ohma and several of the surrounding villages.

As Geoff walked up the path, a middle-aged woman came from around the corner carrying a large basket full of apples. She had obviously spotted him, for she paused before changing her path; she was coming to meet him.

"Howdy there, stranger. Haven't seen you 'bout these parts 'fore," she greeted as they came within talking distance. She was a tall woman with long, pale green hair that was held back with a kerchief.

"I'm, ah… visiting, I suppose you could say. I'm staying with Jacob and Liza, down the road," he replied. Then he extended a hand. "My name's Geoff."

"I'm Nira. Pleased ta meet'cha," she said, accepting his hand. "Well, can I help ya with anything, or are you just sayin' hi ta everyone?"

"Actually, Liza sent me for a bag of apples," Geoff answered with a smile. "Although I do have another reason for stopping by."

"An' what might that be?"

"I ran into your daughter, Nephenee, in the market today. We fought together during the war last year and I wanted to catch up," he explained. Nira's brows raised in surprise.

"Really, now? Yer a war friend of Neph's? She never mentioned ya, but I guess that if you wanna talk ta her, she's in the stables. It's round back, ya can't miss it."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said.

"Oh, an' drop by the house fer the apples 'fore ya leave," Nira added before walking off towards the farmhouse.

Geoff then continued on his way, heading to the back side of the house. As he turned the corner, his gaze fell upon a large orchard packed with trees. He could just spot small balls of red and green among the leaves and there were several people working. Some stood below the trees with a blanket as others perched upon ladders, tossing down ripe apples.

Looking to the left, Geoff saw a long building that was undoubtedly a stable. However, it housed perhaps three stalls at the most and he was suddenly reminded of larger, grander stables that housed hundreds upon hundreds of horses. He could remember walking through them, checking in the stalls to make sure that the warhorses were in good shape.

Blinking, Geoff stopped walking and pondered the memory. However, nothing more came back. He shook his head and decided that he should just let it be; there was nothing he could do to make that particular scene any more meaningful. Instead, he strode towards the stables at a faster pace.

When he entered, he saw that his estimation had been correct; there were three stalls as well as a hay loft. Two horses poked their heads out of their compartments and stared at him curiously. Walking up to them, Geoff could tell right away that they were cart horses. Patting them on the nose, he looked into the third stall. Though her back was to him as she mucked out the stall, Geoff could tell that it was Nephenee.

Leaning on the bottom door quietly, he watched as she forked the dirty straw and manure into a wheelbarrow. Her hair was pulled back, out of her face, and he thought that she looked much different that way. For some reason, he felt that Nephenee had a tendency to hide her face; perhaps it was a scrap of information that he recalled from his past.

Nephenee looked up as she finished her work, and turned to face the door. She stared at Geoff for a moment, as if not registering him there. Then, as the image her eyes saw finally reached her brain, she let out a startled cry, stepping back and nearly tripping over the wheelbarrow.

"Oh! Are you okay? I'm sorry I startled you," he apologized, though he couldn't help smiling.

"G-General Geoffrey—I mean Geoff—what are you, um, doin' here?" she asked, still slightly flushed.

"I came to see you," the aqua-haired man replied.

"Y-Ya did? I-I mean, why?" Nephenee spluttered. She nervously raked a hand through her hair, but realized that it was tied up.

"Your hair looks nice like that," Geoff remarked. "You always leave it down, and it hides your face. Same with that helmet you always wore."

Nephenee's face quickly changed from embarrassed to surprised.

"You remembered!"

"Remembered what?" he asked, as flabbergasted as she was.

"You remembered that I always wore a helmet."

"… I did, didn't I?" Geoff said thoughtfully. Then, he smiled wryly. "That's all I remember, though. Still, I think it's all starting to come back. Slowly."

"T-That's great, though!" Nephenee exclaimed. "N-Not it comin' back slow, b-but that, uh, it's comin' back…"

"Actually, I was hoping that you could help jog my memory," he said. Geoff then realized that he would have to explain more, since she gave him a blank and confused look. "Er, talk to me. Show me things, anything, that might help me remember. I don't know how well you knew me—"

"Not very well, sir," she interrupted, but immediately flushed. "N-Not that I'm tryin' to be all dissuadin' or anything. J-Just saying, is all…"

"No, it's all right. I'd appreciate it if you were willing to help me at all," he replied with a smile.

"O-Of course! I'll do anything I can ta help," she said fervently. "But, uh, if ya don't mind me askin', why don't ya just go back ta Melior?"

"… I don't know. I just have a feeling that it wouldn't be a good idea," he answered.

"Well, uh, if ya really think so… Er, anyways, I don't really know what I should be tellin' ya, but do ya mind if I work first? Gotta put some straw down an' all…" she asked. "Actually, it's almost lunchtime, so we could, uh, talk then, if ya want."

"Whatever's best for you," he replied as she left the stall and climbed the hayloft.

"Um, I'll go find ya at Jacob's later—Oh crud, forgot the wheelbarrow." She made to go down the ladder again, but Geoff raised a hand to stop her.

"Let me get it. There's an empty one right here; no need to come down."

He quickly pulled the wheelbarrow to where Nephenee pointed and looked up. She already had a pitchfork and she started to throw down straw into the wheelbarrow.

"Anyway, like I said, I'll find ya later, so you can—"

The young woman was interrupted by a hiss and a large tabby cat sprang from a nearby hay bale and darted past Nephenee's feet before diving into another pile of straw. Nephenee dropped her pitchfork in surprise and jumped a step back. Geoff's eyes widened in alarm and he opened his mouth to issue a warning, but Nephenee's foot had already stepped back and off the ledge.

"Watch ou—"

"Waah!"

Geoff leapt forward and Nephenee collided with him as she fell off the hayloft. He managed to catch her, but he did fall backwards from the impact, causing them both to tumble to the ground in a heap of limbs, straw and hair. Her ribbon had come undone and some of her light green locks landed on Geoff's face. He could feel that it was thick and coarse, and it smelled earthy, with a hint of apples.

"Dang cat," Nephenee muttered, pushing herself upright and shaking her head. Then, she seemed to have noticed that he was underneath her and she let out a gasp. She scrambled back, but tripped on the hem of her dress and fell again.

"Are you all right?" Geoff asked, managing to get back on his feet. He would have a few bruises in the morning, but what were a few more?

"I-I'm so sorry! I can't believe I fell!" she exclaimed, her cheeks turning a furious shade of red as her gaze went from the hayloft to him and gulped. "T-Thank you for catchin' me."

"I'm just glad that you're not hurt," he responded with a sigh before helping her up. "But I'd better get back to Liza; I was supposed to bring her some apples. Don't forget to come by at lunch."

"I-I won't," she said and he left the stables.

* * *

When Nephenee returned to the farmhouse and entered the kitchen, her mother immediately bombarded her with questions. Who was that young man? Was he a noble? How did they meet? What did he talk to her about? The list went on an on and Nephenee could barely register them let alone answer.

"M-Ma! One at a time!" Nephenee cried, sitting down at the table.

"Oh, sorry, I got a bit carried away there," Nira replied with a laugh. "It's just that I never thought I'd see such a handsome and smart lookin' man come to my door askin' for one of my daughters!"

"N-No! Th-That's not it!" she stammered. "He's a nobleman, Ma! He's General Geoffrey!! The Queen's protector! Commands all the Royal Knights, he does!"

"Well then, if he's so high an' mighty, why's he lookin' for you?" demanded Nira, slightly crestfallen (though Nephenee could see that she still harboured a secret hope that her original guess was correct).

"Er, he, uh, he had a bit o' a spill, so his memory's a bit funny," Nephenee answered. "He, uh, wants me ta help… what was that word he used? Oh yeah, he wants me ta help him job his memory a bit… or somethin' like that. I'm supposed to meet him around noon."

"Really? For lunch, ya say? Then you're gonna have to make him somethin' ta eat," Nira replied, all smiles again. "Ya know what they say: 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach'!"

"M-Ma! How many times to I have ta tell ya?! It's not like that!"

Despite her protests, a few hours later, Nephenee found herself on Jacob and Liza's doorstep with a basket filled with food. Taking in a deep breath, she knocked on the wooden door and a few moments later, Geoff answered.

"Ah, Nephenee, you came," he greeted.

"I, um, brought some lunch…" she mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. The whole situation was so awkward!

"Oh, why don't we eat outside then? It's a pleasant day, after all. Then we won't disturb Liza, either," Geoff said, taking the basket from her before she could object.

Soon, the two of them were seated in the grass near the house, the basket between them. Without a clue as to what she was supposed to say, Nephenee proceeded with taking out the contents of the basket. Short on time, she had made sandwiches, filled with fresh cut vegetables and chicken. She had also packed apples.

"Er, my Ma wanted to bake a pie, but we didn't have time…" Nephenee said as she handed half of the food to the man across from her.

"Really? I'd like to try it one day," he answered with a smile that almost made her drop the sandwich in her hand.

"Ah, s-sure. If you'd like…" she replied. "Um, so wh-what did ya want me ta tell you about?"

"… Anything's fine. Whatever you remember about me."

"Well… Uh, you have a sister named Lucia, I know. She's a really nice lady, very pretty, too. And, um, I think you were friends with this count that talked all fancy. I can't remember his name, though. Then there was Queen Elincia…"

* * *

It had been almost three days since Nephenee had met the paladin in the market. The past two days they had spent talking, reliving old battles. However, despite all her efforts, his memory still lay out of reach. While small pieces came back to him, Geoff was still unable to recall anything of major importance.

The other day, she had even asked Brom for help, but the other man's attempts to return the general's memories yielded little more than hers had. The only guess that Brom could make about why Geoff's amnesia was so persistent worried Nephenee.

"_Maybe somethin' real bad happened to 'im. I heard that some people just make themselves forget when they can't deal with the pain no more."_

If that were indeed the case, then Nephenee couldn't imagine what could've caused him to force his memories away. Or how she could help the commander of the Crimean Royal Knights… Either way, that wasn't her immediate problem (Geoff's memory that is). Right now, she had to figure out how, exactly, she was going to get the six foot-something tall man back to Jacob and Liza's.

A mere fifteen minutes ago, the two of them had been attending a hoedown. Everyone in Ohma had gathered at the big, empty barn that the village used for gatherings and celebrations. Food, drink and music abounded and people of all ages were dancing. In fact, Geoff had tried a local square dance and had failed miserably. Despite the fact that he could waltz, he could not grasp the quick feet and body movements of their country dance. Nephenee had laughed until she was in tears.

As well as discovering that Geoff could not dance (according to country folk, anyway), she also found out that he was not one to hold his liquor. After having several of the more _enthusiastic _men give him mugs of ale, he had pretty much passed out. Though they were not unfriendly about it, they decreed that Geoff was a lightweight.

Now, the young woman was attempting to bring the man back to his room at Jacob and Liza's. Being used to lifting heavy objects, Nephenee figured that it wouldn't be hard to escort Geoff home. He had already regained some consciousness and could stumble along as long as she guided him. However, she had underestimated exactly how heavy he was.

"H-Hold on, Geoff, we're… almost… there," Nephenee grunted, taking a few more steps forward, sincerely hoping he didn't fall. Again.

Geoff let out an incomprehensible mumble and continued to stagger alongside her. Nephenee could see Jacob and Liza's farm now; it would only take another few minutes to get there. When they did, Nephenee let out a long sigh as she dumped Geoff onto his bed (which was luckily on the first floor).

Glancing at his face, Nephenee frowned. His eyes were shut tight, but instead of the peaceful expression most people wore in their sleep, Geoff's face was contorted in distress. Was he having an unpleasant dream? Stepping closer, she realized that he was also mumbling.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

Nephenee felt her heart jerk. It was such a desperate apology that it was painful to even hear it. Looking at his face once more, she had an urge to calm him. How, she wasn't sure, but it made her chest hurt to see him in such… agony.

Recalling how her mother used to place a hand on her sisters' forehead and hum when they were having nightmares, Nephenee tentatively laid her palm over his head, pushing back his soft, aqua locks. As she began to hum a lullaby, Geoff's breathing became shallower and his facial features began to relax.

Seeing that she had succeeded, she stood up to leave, but as soon as she removed her hand, Geoff grabbed her wrist.

"No! Come back! Elincia…!"

Nephenee flushed and froze. Was he dreaming about the queen? Judging by how distressed he sounded, she supposed that he was having more of a nightmare. Gulping, her face still red, she managed to unpry his fingers and retreated out the door. However, even when she was down the road, she could still feel her heart beating erratically in her chest, painfully.

* * *

When Geoff woke up the next morning, he felt as if time had gone backwards and it was the day after his accident. His head pounded and it took several minutes for him to readjust to his surroundings. Vaguely, he remembered that he had been drinking last night. He also remembered that he had never drunk anything stronger than wine before (and never more than one glass).

Luckily, Liza had developed a remedy for curing the dreaded after-effects of a night filled with alcohol. Though there was still a persistent throbbing, he felt much better after downing the vile concoction Liza handed to him.

"Well, that should get ya through the day!" she said with a laugh as Geoff handed the cup back to her. "I always made that for Jacob when he drank so much that he complained 'bout working the next morning. That certainly taught him to ignore his work 'cause of his foolish drinking."

"Thank you," Geoff replied. "I don't think I'll ever drink again…"

"Hahaha, well aren't ya a good boy? Oh, by the way, I shouldn't be the only one ya thank. Nephenee, bless her heart, carried ya all the way back 'ere last night."

"She did?" Geoff said, surprised. "I must apologize to her at once; I can't have been an easy burden."

Promptly leaving the house, he trotted down the road and turned onto the path leading to Nephenee's home. Quickly finding out Nephenee's whereabouts, he once more made his way to the stables. There, he saw Nephenee standing outside, hitching one of the carthorses to a wagon, laden with crates of apples.

"Nephenee!" he called as he approached her.

The girl looked up in surprise before ducking her head once more, letting her hair cover her face like a curtain.

"Er, g-good mornin'," she mumbled as he stopped beside her.

"Ah, are you making a delivery?" Geoff asked, glancing at the cart and horse.

"Y-yeah, I'm bringin' this to the next village. They ordered a few crates of apples, so we need ta bring 'em today…" Nephenee replied.

"You're driving the wagon, then?"

"I-I'm not very good; takes me forever ta get there. The others are busy, so I'm the only one who can go."

"… Shall I come with you?" Geoff offered. "I can drive the wagon; I have a feeling that I've done that before."

"N-No! It's all right, I'm okay!" she exclaimed, flushing a shade of pink.

"I insist. How else am I going to repay you for carrying me all the way back to Jacob's last night?" he asked with a small smile.

"Th-That was nothin'! I mean, I dropped ya a few times, too, so ya really don't need to thank me…" protested Nephenee.

"Well, then you'll just have to push me out of the drivers' seat," Geoff retorted, swinging himself up into said spot. "You can join me, or I could just ask your mother for directions. I'm sure she won't mind as long as the apples get to their destination."

"… F-Fine," Nephenee answered after a moment of staring at the ground. He was glad that she couldn't find a way out of his offer. Really, he could think of no other way of repaying her.

As Geoff snapped the reins and urged the horse forward, Nira came out of the house and waved to them. Apparently she had seen them from the window.

"C'mon back to the house after for some fresh-baked pie!"

"Er… I-I told my Ma that ya wanted to try her apple pie, so she made me bake some this mornin'…" Nephenee muttered, slightly embarrassed, as Geoff waved back.

"Then we'd better hurry back!"

* * *

"Y-You really are good at this," Nephenee remarked as they exited the neighbouring village. "Ya took half the time I take."

"Well, I remember that I was good with horses," Geoff replied with a smile as he urged the horse a little faster, now that its weight had been relieved.

"So… is yer memory comin' back now?" she asked hesitantly.

"… No, nothing's come back yet," he answered. "Actually, I don't think I'd particularly mind if it returned or not…"

"W-What do ya mean?" Nephenee exclaimed. "Y-You don't want to remember?"

Geoff didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to answer 'no', but another part of him wanted to say 'yes'. Right now, he felt at peace and happy. Even if it had only been a few days, he felt at home in Ohma. He felt like there was nothing for him to worry about. However, a voice in the back of his mind laughed at him and hissed: 'coward'.

"Are… Are ya scared to remember?" she asked suddenly, when he did not respond.

"… Yes, I think I am," he replied.

"Well, ya shouldn't be. The General Geoffrey I remember wasn't scared of nothin'. He was brave, and he never turned his back; not even once," Nephenee said.

Once again, Geoff did not reply, but simply nodded. They drove on in silence for the next handful of minutes. Then, Geoff spotted a rider in the distance, coming towards them. The rider seemed to be in a hurry, so Geoff slowly nudged the wagon closer to the edge of the road. He didn't want a collision on such a narrow pathway.

"Ah!" Nephenee gasped. "Look! I-It's Lady Lucia!"

"What?" Geoff exclaimed, looking up at the rider atop the approaching horse.

Now that they were closer, he saw that the rider was indeed a woman. She had long, aqua hair that was loosely tied back and she was dressed in a familiar white coat. Lucia. The name rang in his head and as his eyes followed her movements, he remembered who she was.

"Lucia! Sister!" he yelled, stopping the cart. Standing up, he jumped off the wagon and waved an arm.

The rider stopped immediately, and her eyes widened in recognition.

"Geoffrey!" Lucia cried, jumping off her steed and crossing the last few feet between them. She then pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace. "What happened to you? We've been looking for you for days!"

"Ah…" Geoff faltered. He still could not recollect his life prior to his fall. The fact that this woman was his sister had been the only memory that returned to him.

"Well, that doesn't matter right now. The point is, we found you and you're safe. Elincia's been worried sick about you," Lucia said, oblivious to Geoff's plight.

"… Elincia…?"

"Yes, she's recovered. She'll be up and walking about by the time we return to Melior," his sister replied with a soft smile.

"Ugh!" Geoff grunted, bringing a hand to his head. Just then, when Lucia had finished her sentence, something had come back to him. No, more than just that; e_verything_ was coming back.

Memories from every time of his life were flooding back. The first time he had fallen off a horse, his training to become a knight, the day Daein attacked Melior, and that fateful incident that had been the catalyst of recent events.

The sniper with the poisoned bow had nearly killed her. Though he had lanced him through, Elincia had already been hit. He had been so stricken with guilt that he couldn't even think straight. Bastian had forced him to take a ride in the country-side. The other man had told him not to return until his head was cleared. Then he had hit that rut, and he fell…

"Geoffrey!"

"Geoff!" the two voices cried out in unison as Geoffrey reeled backwards.

"I'm… I'm fine," he muttered as he finally regained his balance.

"Geoff… Did ya, did ya remember, just now?" Nephenee asked quietly from behind him.

The aqua-haired man turned to face the young woman. Though he had remembered now, he had not forgotten the kindness she had shown him the past few days.

"Yes, I did."

"Geoffrey, are you okay? Ah, who is this?" Lucia asked, noticing Nephenee for the first time. "You look familiar…"

"Er, I'm Nephenee, ma'am… Ah, I used ta be in the army with General Ike…" she replied.

"Oh yes, I remember you now. Were you with Geoffrey just now? I'm sorry I didn't see you sooner," Lucia replied.

Though she appeared calm, Geoffrey could see that she was incredibly confused. It seemed that she had just noticed that he was dressed in attire that would have appalled all at Crimea's court and that he had been driving a wagon. She also couldn't seem to make the connection between Nephenee and himself.

"Sister, the reason that you couldn't find me was because I had… disappeared for a few days," he said.

"Disappeared?"

"In a word, yes. I took a fall when I was riding and I lost all my memories. Nephenee and her neighbours have been taking care of me. In fact, I was just on my way back to their village, Ohma," he explained.

"Ah, so you were in Ohma. We never thought to look there," Lucia murmured. "But are you okay now? I'm assuming that you've remembered everything?"

"Yes," Geoffrey answered. Closing his eyes, he thought for a moment before adding more. "However I cannot return to Melior just yet."

"What? Why not? You've been missing for days; the nobles are in an uproar. They think you've run away, as ridiculous as that may be."

"One more day. I need one more day before I return," he replied. "I can't just up and leave now. I must thank everyone in Ohma for their hospitality. If not for them, I would be dead."

Lucia closed her mouth and her features softened.

"Of course… I will return to Melior then, and inform Elincia and Bastian of your whereabouts," she said, stepping forward to embrace Geoffrey again. "Be careful, dear brother. We will await your return."

Mounting her horse once more, Lucia thanked Nephenee and returned the way she came. Once she was out of sight, Geoffrey turned to the young woman beside him.

"You look very surprised," he remarked with a smile. "Though I'm not sure why you are. Did you think I was so heartless that I would leave my saviours without saying a thing?"

"N-No! Th-that's not—I mean, I was… n-nevermind," she stammered, turning pink.

"Well then, shall we head back? I only have one day, after all. I'd like to taste that apple pie of yours before I leave," Geoffrey replied with a playful grin.

"M-My pie?" Nephenee squeaked. In all of the excitement, she'd completely forgotten about such a trivial matter.

"These past few days are memories that I will never forget. When I think back on them, I can safely say that it has been a long time since I've been able to enjoy myself without having to worry about anything," Geoffrey added, before taking her hand in his and kissing it gently. "Thank you."

* * *

I've always wanted to write a story where Geoffrey is forced to be a peasant. I don't know why, I just thought it'd be fun. Then I thought: what if I stuck Nephenee in, too? Then I can kill two birds with one stone by turning them into a pairing. Then I decided that if I made Geoffrey lose his memory, it'd make my life a whole lot easier. So that's what happened… Yeah, I'm not very creative, am I? Oh well, I really liked this one-shot (despite the super fluffiness and the length), so I hope you all enjoyed it as well.

By the way, any feedback on this is very welcomed. I want to know if I wrote the country accents well or not (yes, there are inconsistencies such as "you" and "ya", but it's like that in the game, too) and of course, I'd like to know if I went overboard with Geoffrey or not (since I was pretty liberal with his characterization).

--FireEdge--


	7. Warmth: Karla, Karel

Instead of studying for my Math test last night, I ended up writing this. I recently read Karla and Karel's supports and then inspiration smacked me in the face. I finally got the idea down on paper and this is what came out. Just so you know, I did minimum research, so it might not be completely accurate to how Karla or Karel's life played out.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Warmth**

Theme: #17. Big Brother and Little Sister

Genre: General/Family

Characters/Pairings: Karla, Karel

* * *

She was crying. Her breath caught in her throat, desperately trying to break through her sobs. The sky was scarlet, streaked with purple and orange. It looked warped, as if she were in a different world. Even the wildlife around her appeared twisted and malevolent. The low shrubbery's branches grew at odd angles, giving the appearance of skeletal hands reaching for her. Through her tears, the hands crept towards her. She thought she saw eyes, buried within the depths and she half screamed, half choked.

Then, suddenly, he was there. She felt the warmth of his hands cup her small shoulders and his face appeared before her. As usual, his visage was free of any extreme emotion, but a slight smile graced his lips and she saw them move. She could just process the words: "Karla, climb onto my back. Let's go home."

His body was warm; a welcome reprieve from the chill of the wilderness. She pressed her cheek against his back and her eyes shut. When she awoke, she was lying in her bed and he was gone.

* * *

She hated fighting. It overwhelmed her senses and it was as if she was no longer in control of her body. The smell of blood flooded her nose, the harsh battle cries and the clanging of steel on steel grated her eardrums. The adrenaline that pumped through her veins made the world spin in a constant whirl of swords and snarling faces. The feel of her blade, biting into soft, human flesh disgusted her. She wanted to retch, but no bile came to her mouth; she had killed too many times.

The nameless, faceless man fell before her and where she expected to find another Black Fang solder, there was instead _he_. His hair was longer, flowing down his back like a waterfall. His sword was stained crimson and only a twisted smirk marred his usually apathetic features.

She barely registered the fact that she had called for him, and her hand clasped his shoulder, wondering if he was real. A familiar warmth spread through her palm, but the sensation disappeared as he turned and her hand fell away.

He stared at her, his eyes somehow surprised yet knowing at the same time. As she opened her mouth to speak, a group of horsemen galloped towards them. Immediately, her body took over and she was thrown into a hectic broil once more. When she had dispatched the enemy, he was already gone.

* * *

Her breath was ragged, but she was not crying this time. Pain was no longer enough to bring tears to her eyes. Not even the crushing feeling against her chest that impeded her lungs from drawing in life, nor the feeling of her insides trying to eat itself elicited more than a groan. Her thin shift stuck to her body, glued on by sweat. The interior of the ger swayed, though she lay unmoving on her bedroll.

She was dying, she knew, but it didn't matter. She had no regrets. Her life had been happy, she was married to a man she loved and they had a beautiful daughter. She would not wish for more time with them; she had taken too many lives, she had no right to her own salvation.

Her head twitched as she saw the ger flap pull aside. Was Bartre back from retrieving more water? Her eyes blurred from the fever, but as they refocused, she realized that the figure in the entryway was slimmer. He strode towards her, the flap falling close behind him. His face materialized beside her, bearing a smile that didn't touch his eyes.

Was he happy to see her? Or happy to see her dying?

She unconsciously reached out a hand to touch him. He met her halfway and his large hand clasped hers. She sighed in contented relief. The hand was real; she could feel his distinct warmth, despite the hotness of her own fevered flesh.

Her eyes closed then, never to open again. Even if they did, she would only have found that he had disappeared once more, without a word.

* * *

Yeah, there wasn't much point to that, but I just wanted to capture that one line in their B support, where Karla said she remembered the warmth of his back. I'm not sure why, but that image left a really strong imprint into my mind. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, but even if you didn't that's fine since I had a good time writing it (I forgot how much I liked Karel's character). Leave a review and tell me what you thought.

--FireEdge--


	8. Hollow: Ike, Haar, Jill

I really should be doing work and studying rather than writing this. But I figured procrastination is so much more fun. Anyway, this is the love-child of my messing around with POVs...

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Hollow**

Theme: #79. Death Blow

Genre: Tragedy

Characters/Pairings: Ike, Haar, Jill

* * *

Ike came to a halt on the outskirts of the camp as he spotted the large bulk of a black wyvern. Pausing, the hero debated on his next course of action. Should he approach him, or leave him be? His feet moved forward, finally, when he recalled Mist's tear-streaked face.

At his approach, the wyvern, curled protectively around its master, opened a lazy eye to follow his movements. Perhaps seeing his intent, the beast flexed its right wing and uncurled its tail, revealing Haar's sleeping form. The man was reclined on the wyvern's foreleg, his own legs outstretched and crossed, his armour stacked in a nearby pile.

* * *

"_JILL! NO!!"_

* * *

The blue-haired man stopped several feet away from Haar, regarding him wordlessly. The dragonmaster did not stir from his slumber, and a minute later, Ike broke the silence.

"Haar, I know you're awake," he said evenly.

The other man did not reply, but a moment later, his single eye opened and returned his gaze.

"Can I help you, General?"

Once again, Ike paused. How could he word this?

* * *

"_Get out of my way, NOW!"_

"_What are you doing?! That's the enemy!!"_

"_H-Hey! Hold it! Wha--!"_

"_Let go of my arm, or I'll cut off your hand."_

* * *

"... How are you holding up?" he finally settled lamely.

Haar's eye closed and for a second Ike thought he had fallen asleep again.

"I'm not nearly as weak as that," Haar replied suddenly, though his voice held no hostility.

It was clear that the dragonmaster was exhausted. Dark bags shadowed his one visible eye and his prominent cheekbones were even more distinct, due to his sunken cheeks.

"I wasn't implying that. It's been three days, and... well, Mist noticed that you hadn't been coming to the mess tent."

"I shouldn't be the one you're worried about," he said. "After living as long as I have, you start getting used to losing people. Your sister's still young, not nearly as tough as I am. Your attention should be focused on her. After all, didn't she just lose her father, too?"

"You never get used to losing loved ones," Ike accused. His eyes caught a slight movement; Haar's gloved hand had clenched into a fist.

* * *

"_Haar, stop."_

"_You're lucky I don't kill this idiot for what he did."_

"_... I know how you feel, but he didn't know."_

"_Shut up."_

"_..."_

* * *

"Don't worry, General, I won't be rushing headlong into battle as a suicide attempt anytime soon, if that's what you're worried about," Haar retorted, almost bitterly. "There's no way I'd be able to face... them... in the afterlife. Not yet."

"... It wasn't your fault, you know. Jill would _never_ have blamed you, so..." Ike replied, his voice trailing off.

The dragonmaster didn't answer, but fixed him with a gaze that sent a chill down his spine. Then his wyvern curled itself around its rider once more. Their conversation was clearly finished. The young man wished that there was something else he could do, or say. However, he also knew exactly how it felt to have someone you loved struck down before your eyes and that there wasn't anything he _could_ do.

* * *

"_Jill... Open your eyes, silly girl..."_

"_... Haar... I'm sorry, there's nothing I can... It's... I was too late..."_

"_... DAMN IT!"_

"_I-I..."_

"_Not you... It's not _your_ fault."_

"_Haar, it's not yours ei—"_

"_... If you'll excuse me, General..."_

"_Ike, we shouldn't let him go like that in the middle of a battle."_

"_... It's okay, Soren. We can finish this without him. And Jill... she needs to be taken care of..."_

* * *

Ike stared at the wyvern for another moment before turning around and heading back to camp, feeling unaccomplished. He never had a flair for language, but he had the distinct feeling that his words had fallen on deaf ears anyway. Maybe it was the way the tone Haar's voice had taken as they spoke, or the look in his one eye when he had stared at him.

Even now, three days later, Haar still wore the same expression—or rather, a lack thereof. It seemed that Jill wasn't the only one who had died that day.

* * *

I rewrote this about three times before I settled on what you see now. Even now, I'm not entirely sure if I'm satisfied with it. Oh well, let me know what you think.

--FireEdge--


	9. Inexplicable: Soren, Ashnard

I seem to be having a flood of inspiration lately. This just happens to be the result of some of that. I'm not really sure where this came from, but...

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Inexplicable**

Theme: #35. A Bond

Genre: General

Characters/Pairings: Soren, Ashnard

* * *

Soren held his Rexcalibur tome at the ready. He had already prepared the spell; at a single word, the full strength of the wind would be unleashed upon his unfortunate foe. This enemy, however, just happened to be the Mad King of Daein.

The sage gazed up through his lashes, following the circling and ever-descending shadow that was Ashnard's mount. The king had spotted him, he had no doubts, and was now coming to strike him down. Which was exactly what the tactician wanted.

It was all a part of his plan. He, a scrawny magic-user, would be the perfect bait to attract the attention of the tyrant. Soren was confident that he would be able to hold his own long enough for Ike to sneak up behind the king and surprise attack him.

The ground beneath his feet shook as the mighty wyvern—was it really a wyvern? It seemed much too large—landed. The sun shone down on the mighty king, casting him in sinister shadows despite the fact that they stood in a rather cheery-looking courtyard in the middle of the day.

"What have we here? A little mage trying to challenge _me_?" came the harsh, baritone voice.

Soren did not reply. What words would he want to waste on him? Instead, he only muttered under his breath the word of release and raised his hand towards the king. Suddenly the other man was engulfed in a flurry of sleet, and ice encased his mount's feet before a mighty tornado descended on them.

The sage let out a light 'tsk' as the storm died down and he saw that the wyvern had blocked much of the blast from hurting Ashnard with its wings. Still, Soren could see that his spell had taken a toll on them. Ashnard's skin was wind-burned and both man and beast were covered with ice crystals.

"Not bad, boy. But if that's all you've got, then you'll be sorely disappointed," Ashnard sneered. "You see this armour? This is armour that has been blessed by the goddess. Your pathetic attempt did nothing."

"Really, now? I highly doubt that the goddess' protection can prevent frostbite. But I think you knew that yourself. Why else would you have made your wyvern protect you with its wings?" Soren retorted coolly. He had to keep him talking. Rexcalibur would take too long to prepare again, and he could see Ike running towards them. Just a little longer...

"Hehehe, you've got quite the mouth, boy. Is that how you speak to a king? Where on Tellius did you learn your manners? If you were my son, I would have you whipped."

"Well, you can hardly blame one who never had parents to rear them. It is rather a shame that I did not have as excellent of an example of a father as you, growing up," sneered the sage, his red eyes meeting those of Ashnard's with contempt.

"A shame indeed," the Mad King replied, readying his large, jagged blade. Then the man paused, his eyes narrowing.

"Is your eyesight failing you, Oh-Great-One?" Soren asked with a smirk. Ike was nearly upon them now; just a few seconds longer. Ashnard would never see it coming.

The king however hadn't seemed to hear him. His heavy brows were drawn together and his mouth was set in a frown.

"That mark on your forehead... and those eyes..."

Soren frowned in return. He was used to people commenting on his Brand, but what was so strange about his eyes? It was not unusual to have ruby eyes. However, the mage quickly dismissed the king's comments. Anything that distracted him... and there was Ike! Finally!

"ASHNARD!" Ike bellowed.

Damn it! Ike was supposed to take him by surprise. He had specifically instructed him not to confront him head-on! The entire purpose of him distracting Ashnard had been to give Ike the opportunity to back-attack the king!

Soren sighed as Ashnard and his mount turned to face Ike's chivalric idiocy.

_No matter, I had a back-up plan just in case this happened._

Soren then retreated and beckoned for one of the healers. With a Physic staff on hand, Ike should be able to exchange at least a few blows. Then he could call Tibarn in to help...

It wasn't long before the battle ended. After a heated duel, Ike had finally struck the final blow, plunging Ragnell into Ashnard's chest as Tibarn and the dragons restrained the mount.

The Mad King had then been tossed unceremoniously to the ground. This was followed by a strange occurrence. The red dragon, Ena, had immediately run towards the felled mount and was embracing it.

A moment later, Nasir clarified the situation. However, this did not interest Soren. He cared not for the familial dealings of sub-humans. With a snort, he turned his gaze to Ashnard's body. While they were occupied, he would check to see if Ashnard still had the medallion—though, of course, he would not touch it.

As he stopped in front of the Mad King, Soren noticed that there was still an ounce of life left in his body. Ashnard's face was upturned and his eyes were just barely open. The sage saw them flicker with recognition.

"... Y... You..." Ashnard gasped, blood bubbling out of his throat and dripping down his jaw. "... H...How... are... you... still.... a... live...?"

"What kind of foolish question is that?" Soren demanded, wrinkling his nose in annoyance and confusion. However, the king did not answer.

Suddenly, Soren shuddered. For some inexplicable reason, he felt... disturbed by the corpse in front of him. He couldn't identify what the feeling was, so he dismissed it and walked away from the body as if it were as insignificant to him as would be a fly.

* * *

"_Well, my boy, you'll grow up big and strong, won't you? I can see you now. A great, black dragon. Hah! You're pleased by that prospect as well? Hahaha! Ahahahaha!"_

* * *

I'm rather happy with how this turned out, though I've never written Soren before, so I'm hoping that he turned out all right. I also haven't played FE9 for a while, and I don't really remember how the whole ending scene went (or if Soren and Ashnard have a conversation in the final chapter), so I'll just claim some creative liberty with that. Leave a review with your thoughts!

--FireEdge--


	10. O Father, Where Art Thou?: Elin,Ike,Jill

So, I wrote this a while ago, but forgot about it. Oops? Anyway, I figured I'd put this up to show everyone that I'm still alive.

Anyway, the inspiration for this story smacked me in the face when I was listening to the radio one day and heard Josh Groban's "You Raise Me Up". After sorting through a flood of images, I came up with this.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**O Father, Where Art Thou?**

Theme: #31. Choosing a Target/Setting Your Sights

Genre: Family/Tragedy

Characters/Pairings: Elincia, Ike, Jill

* * *

I have always aspired to be like him.

* * *

Father was kind and always soft-spoken. He never raised his voice with me, even when I told him that I hated him because he never seemed to have enough time to visit or play. However, every time he came, he always brought me a gift. A doll, some sweets, or a new ribbon to put in my hair. The day after I denounced him, he brought me a beautiful pony.

Father was strong and brave. Nothing ever seemed to scare him. I can still remember that time where I was trying to rescue that puppy in the river. I hadn't really thought it all through properly. I just went and jumped from stone to stone, trying to get to that poor, stranded dog. It wasn't until after I slipped and fell into the river that I realized how stupid I had been. Then Father dove into the river and pulled me out. He even saved the pup.

Father was honourable and dependable. Even though it was my eighth birthday, he immediately left to fend off bandits when someone came knocking at our door, pleading for help. I remember crying and crying because I thought that I wasn't important to him. But later, in the middle of the night, he swept in, picked me up off my bed and took me on my first wyvern ride.

* * *

As I grew older, I came to respect him more and more. I learned from Bastian exactly how hard he had to work to govern a kingdom, and how he was a great ruler. He was well-liked by the citizenry and even the most critical nobles only grumbled under their breath at meetings. Above all, he had forged peaceful ties with all of the neighbouring countries. A feat unique only to Crimea.

As I grew older, I came to respect him more and more. He never turned down someone in need if he could help them. Even if they didn't have enough money to pay us properly, he always told them that it was fine and that we would get the job done. When he fought, he wielded his axe with such skill and strength; nothing ever stopped him from reaching his goal.

As I grew older, I came to respect him more and more. He always answered the king's call-to-arms, or the needs of the villagers. Most everyone in the army respected him, and the people of Talrega knew that they could always count on him. When I walked by his side through the streets, people would come up and thank him for this or for that, proffering him gifts that he always declined.

* * *

I wanted to be like him. I disciplined myself by learning to control my temper, to be kind to those around me, to give everyone a chance before judging them. Even if I knew, at the time, that I would not govern Crimea, I wanted to keep peaceful relations with the other countries. I told myself that, if I were ever to be an ambassador to another state, I would be ever-so-polite...

I wanted to be like him. Every day, I watched the others train until I could learn to wield a weapon myself. When he finally started teaching me how to use a sword, I practised constantly, so that I could eventually be as good as him. I even told myself that, one day, if I ever led the Mercenaries, I would be just like him and never turn anyone down and that I would always do all in my power to help people.

I wanted to be like him. I would help the woman and children harvest the crops during harvest time, or run errands for the old couple down the hill. Then, when I was old enough, I joined the army, to try and become a model soldier. I always obeyed my superiors, went the extra mile to do my best to prove that I was a loyal soldier of Daein. If I became governor of Talrega, I told myself that I would rule as justly and as reliably as he did.

* * *

Then, he was killed. In just a few minutes, the figure that I always looked up to, that I strove to one day equal was dashed from my sights. It almost felt as if my life had lost its meaning.

Why did you leave me all alone? What am I supposed to do now? Father... where did you go?

* * *

So, I realize that there were probably other characters that lost their fathers and whatnot. However, these three were the ones that popped into my head first (and were the most canon ones, I believe). I also decided to give first-person a shot and tried out a different style this time around (hopefully it wasn't too confusing). Just a note about the characterization: these inner monologues take place almost immediately after the deaths of Ramon, Greil and Shiharam, respectively, so that's why they may seem to be a bit OOC. Anyway, please leave a review and let me know what you thought!

A note: I have now completed one-tenth of this challenge! Haha, I still have a long way to go.

--FireEdge--


	11. Unfathomable: IkeElincia, Geoffrey, Mist

I've been toying with this idea ever since I wrote the epilogue for _Defying Fate_. Mostly, though, I think I just wanted to write about the next generation of FE9/10 characters. So this is a sort of sequel? A warning: this is what I wish could happen, so the situations that crop up may be rather improbable, so go into this with an open mind.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Unfathomable**

Theme: #62. Unreachable Thoughts

Genre: Family/General

Characters/Pairings: Ike/Elincia, Geoffrey, Mist

* * *

Ferdinand loved his mother tremendously. Even now, when he was twenty years-old, he inwardly worshipped the ground she walked on. Queen Elincia had only grown wiser in her nigh-thirty years as Crimea's monarch. As the legendary pacifist ruler, she had avoided leading Crimea into war and had nearly eliminated discrimination against laguz—of course there were still some who held onto their prejudices, but that was only to be expected.

However, there were times when he didn't understand his mother. For example, ever since he was fourteen, she had made sure that he had begun to learn how to deal with the everyday duties of the kingdom. While he knew it was important to learn how to rule the nation that he was to one day inherit, he never quite grasped why she had wanted him to learn as early as possible.

* * *

_Opening the door carefully, the young Ferdinand stuck his head out into the hallway. Looking right, he saw the back of a retreating figure with a shock of teal hair._

"_Psst! Casimir!" Ferdinand hissed, stepping out of the room and carefully shutting the door behind him._

_The other boy turned around at the sound of his name and frowned upon seeing who it was._

"_Prince Ferdinand, you're supposed to be studying," the slightly older boy chastised._

"_Please, as if _you_ would want to be figuring out what expenditures are reasonable when using gold from the royal treasury and what is an appropriate estimation of the amount that should be allotted," he retorted with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, my tutor has left for the day and mother won't check on me until later. Let's go practise those new fencing techniques your father taught us." _

"_And if we get caught? What then?" Casimir demanded, though he found himself unconsciously following the young prince as they snuck down the hallway. _

"_It'll only be for half an hour, maybe. No one will even notice that I'm not dutifully studying."_

_Casimir grunted half-heartedly in response as they emerged into the small private courtyard that the two boys used for their training and sport. However, they had no sooner picked up their practice rapiers when they heard a distinctive clearing of the throat._

_Like two deer that had suddenly found themselves at the receiving end of a hunter's arrow, the two youths spun around, their eyes wide. They immediately stood up straight and instinctively hid their rapiers behind their backs, for before them stood Queen Elincia and her faithful general._

"_Ferdinand, I thought that you were studying with your tutor?" Elincia asked. Though her voice held no reproach, Ferdinand still felt extremely guilty and he couldn't help but scuff at the ground a bit with his boot._

"_Umm, he left already, Mother. And, I, uh, finished my work, so I thought that I'd practise my fencing with Casimir..."_

_Elincia's mouth twitched into a small smile before she turned to the man beside her, who wore an impressive scowl on his face as he fixed Casimir with a stern gaze. _

"_If you'll excuse me, Geoffrey. We will continue our conversation at a later time."_

"_Of course," Geoffrey replied with a short bow. The general then directed his attention to Casimir. "Come now, Casimir."_

"_Yes, Father," the boy chirped, a little dejectedly, as he trotted after Geoffrey. _

_As soon as Geoffrey and Casimir's forms disappeared out of the courtyard, Elincia turned back to her son._

"_Now, Ferdinand, you really shouldn't drag poor Casimir along with you when you decide not to do your work. Geoffrey will scold him now, no doubt."_

"_Sorry, Mother..." Ferdinand mumbled, his fingers tracing the designs on the rapier's guard. "But calculating funds is so _boring_!"_

"_I know, dear, but you must learn," Elincia said gently, kneeling down before him and grasping his hands, stopping his idle tracing. "You do want to be a good king in the future, don't you?"_

"_Of course! But that's _ages_ away!" he exclaimed. He was fourteen for goodness' sake!_

"_Hmmm. Perhaps."_

"_What do you mean?" Ferdinand pressed, becoming uncomfortable. He disliked it when his mother's gaze assumed such a far-away look. He could never tell what she was thinking when she became like that._

"_Nothing, dear. Why don't I work on some of the problems with you? It'll go faster that way," she said instead after a moment, before standing up._

"_... All right..." _

* * *

When he was sixteen, he had finally started to grasp the inner workings of his mother's duties. Sometimes, he had even been sent as an ambassador to other countries. At about this time, his mother had introduced him to the Greil Mercenaries. He had been barely able to contain his excitement at meeting these legendary heroes.

He had been slightly disappointed, however, that when the small embassy of Mercenaries came, only one had been a part of the initial group that had fought in the Mad King's War and the Goddess' War.

The other four members had apparently been some of the senior members of the second generation of the Greil Mercenaries. Though they had only been a handful of years elder than he, he could tell right away that they were capable young men and women. He could still remember that day vividly.

* * *

"_Your Highness," the brown-haired woman greeted politely with a graceful curtsey. "My name is Mist, current leader of the Greil Mercenaries."_

_Ferdinand nodded in response. He couldn't help but notice how sad and wistful the smile on her face looked as she introduced herself._

"_This is my daughter, Elena," Mist continued, gesturing to a young woman with dark green hair who seemed a couple of years older than he was. "One day, she will inherit the leadership of the Greil Mercenaries."_

_Elena bowed to him and to Elincia, who sat quietly nearby. However, the young woman said nothing and her face was impassive, which made him frown. He had never met anyone so stoic before._

"_These two young men are Mykola and Mikhael, my nephews and the two eldest members of our junior squad, as we affectionately call them," Mist said with another smile, happier this time. _

There's nothing 'junior' about them_, Ferdinand thought wryly. The two young men were at least in their early twenties and both carried themselves with the quiet arrogance of experienced warriors. They too, bowed to him with a murmured: "Your Highness, Your Majesty". He couldn't help but twitch slightly, though, as their greeting was in unison and they both possessed identical faces. _

At least their hair colour's different, or I'd think I was seeing double!

"_And, last but not least, this is Eyriol, Soren's apprentice," Mist added. _

_A sandy-haired young man, garbed in mage robes, stepped forward and executed a perfect bow—one that was at just the correct height that suited his position as Crown Prince—not a clumsy one like his companions. Clearly, he was well versed in courtly manners. _

"_It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Ferdinand. I hope that we meet your expectations and that you will look to us should you require our aid in the future," he said in a soft, eloquent voice. The apprentice tactician then turned to his mother and gave another bow, once again of appropriate height. "And greetings to you as well, Your Majesty. My master sends his regards."_

"_You are indeed Soren's student," Elincia laughed. "Your master taught you court etiquette well." _

"_Thank you very much, My Queen." _

_Ferdinand couldn't help but feel that the mood seemed to have lightened and that a tension had been dispelled from the air. Strangely enough, Eyriol's spot-on manners had dispelled the stuffy air of formality. He rather liked him already._

"_I would have loved to introduce the rest of the younger members, but Soren said that it'd be a disaster to bring more than three or four of them. Something about how they'd be an embarrassment to the group with their 'ignorant ways'," said Mist with a giggle. _

"_Yes, Soren would say that!"his mother agreed with a smile._

"_So, did you call us here for anything in particular, Elincia?" the other woman asked finally. _

_Ferdinand's brows rose slightly at the casualness in which Mist addressed his mother. Still, it didn't sound wrong. _

"_No, I just wanted Ferdinand to meet you all," replied Elincia._

_The prince turned to look at his mother and saw a familiar, secretive smile on her face. _

"_Have a seat. This wasn't meant to be a formal reception. I'll call for some refreshments." Elincia then turned to her son, as if sensing his questioning gaze, and said quietly. "Why don't you go talk to them?"_

"_I'm honoured to meet members of the Greil Mercenaries, but _why_ am I meeting them in the first place? You didn't even tell Lady Mist?"_

"_Like I said, I just wanted you to meet them. You never know when, one day, you may need their assistance."_

* * *

However, though he had yet to ask for the Greil Mercenaries' aid (for what had he needed their services for in those days of peace?), he had found himself inviting them to visit him. Their way of life was so different from his that he welcomed the breath of fresh air they brought when they called on the palace. He had learned several useful sword techniques from Elena, horseback-riding tricks from the twins and he never tired of conversing with Eyriol.

Though many of the nobles did not approve of their prince consorting with mercenaries, his mother had been exceedingly pleased. She never did tell him why.

Ferdinand rubbed his temples with his forefinger and thumb. It was so frustrating! Why couldn't his mother simply _tell_ him why she did what she did? Why was she doing _this_?! It didn't make any sense!

Had this been triggered by his father's death nearly a year ago? No, she had never truly loved him. Respected him, yes. But love? He knew better.

* * *

_Ferdinand stood stiffly as he stared at the back of his mother's head. She was giving a speech to the people, informing them of the death of her consort. He didn't need to see her face to know that her face was calm and dry. Of course she would never cry in front of the public, but he also knew that she had yet to do so at all, even in private._

_The night when a guard had run into his mother's chambers, where he had been reading with her, and frantically proclaimed that Lord Tacitus had suddenly died, she had shown only shock. When they found out that he had suffered from a heart attack, she had shed no tears even when he cried freely. _

_He had been angry with her, at the fact that she hadn't seemed to care for her departed husband. She had only smiled sadly as he had raged at her. He had accused her of being cold-hearted—an ice queen. For hadn't she rejected Geoffrey, the man who had loved her so passionately? Hadn't she then married Tacitus, one of her loyal retainers, solely out of duty? She had needed to leave an heir and Tacitus had offered to be her consort. _

_His mother had been so surprised; she hadn't known that he knew the truth. _

_Now that he had calmed down, he regretted what he had said. He had been so distraught with sorrow that he had wilfully blinded himself to the truth. She had turned down her faithful knight because she did not love him back, not in that way, and had not wanted him to suffer in a marriage of one-sided love. Her marrying at all had been Tacitus' idea. His father and Count Bastian had discussed with her the repercussions of not leaving an heir to the throne and Tacitus had offered himself to her. His father cared not for love, possessing instead an undying loyalty to his queen and country. Knowing that he had served Crimea in such a crucial way had been enough for him. _

_The formal address was over. Elincia turned away from the people assembled in the courtyard below her and stepped off the balcony. As she entered the hall, her eyes met his—their eyes were the same striking and golden colour—and he looked down in shame. However, a gentle, gloved hand lifted his chin and his mother smiled down on him, though he was taller than she. _

"_I understand, Ferdinand. You have nothing to be ashamed of. If anyone is to feel guilty, it should be me. I'm sorry," she said softly, that far-away look in her eyes once more, before walking away_

_Though he had smiled back weakly and nodded, he couldn't fathom how _she_ understood how he felt so well when he hadn't an inkling as to what thoughts swirled in _her_ head._

* * *

"What's wrong, Prince Ferdinand?" a familiar voice spoke next to him.

Ferdinand jumped slightly as he was brought to his senses. Turning his head, he found Casimir standing next to him, giving him a look that clearly stated that he was worried about his liege's mental state. Well, that's what he got for standing in the middle of the corridor, deep in thought...

"Nothing, Casimir. I was just thinking..."

"About the coronation?" the other man asked.

"Sort of... I was... thinking about Mother. About how I can't figure her out," he said after a moment. "For example, why is she stepping down when she is perfectly healthy? It doesn't make sense! Argh! I wish that she were as simple as _your_ mother."

"Well, they grew up in very different circumstances," Casimir replied, obviously unsure as to how he could placate the soon-to-be-king. "I mean, she grew up in the Crimean countryside as a farmer and then became a soldier. Really, neither profession required any complex plotting..."

"I know. But it doesn't change anything," he said impatiently, starting to walk down the hall in his agitation, sensing Casimir falling into line behind him.

The two young men walked on in silence, their footfalls the only sounds echoing in the marble corridor. However, as they passed a window that looked over one of the castle's inner courtyards, Ferdinand caught the soft voice of his mother.

Stopping abruptly, nearly causing Casimir to walk into him, Ferdinand's head snapped sharply to face the window. There was no doubt about it; that was the Queen's voice. Without a second thought, Ferdinand strode to the window, giving Casimir a glare that clearly said: 'Don't say a word'.

Peering through the third-storey window, the prince looked down into the courtyard below him and immediately spotted his mother. She was talking quietly to an older gentleman with emerald green hair, which was mostly grey, and a strange squint. He strained his ears to try and pick out what they were saying.

"... letter will... ... you the meeting... sorry I couldn't... ... Good luck."

"Thank you... your payment..."

His mother then handed over a package and the man accepted with a bow before walking away. Ferdinand retreated back into the hallway with a 'tsk'. What had she given the man? Payment, she had said, so gold? What was she up to?

"Prince Ferdinand, if you've finished spying on your mother, perhaps we should head to the preparation room? It is nearly time for your coronation ceremony," Casimir said dryly, a disapproving look on his face, which took after General Geoffrey more and more each day.

Ferdinand rolled his eyes and sighed, but nodded in assent.

"Well, I suppose we must."

* * *

As the heavy ceremonial crown was set on his head of green locks, the room erupted into applause and cheers and the court musicians immediately began playing Crimea's anthem. Looking up, his eyes locked with his mother.

"Ferdinand... do you remember that time, long ago when you asked me why I prepared you to be ruler so meticulously and so early on?" Elincia said, her voice just barely audible over the cornets and drums.

"... Yes," he replied, his eyes widening in surprise.

"It was for this moment. I knew that I would abdicate, rather than rule until I died, and I wanted you to be prepared," she answered with a smile. "As you know, I never had such an opportunity..."

"But... But why, Mother? You are a great ruler! Wh—"

"You will see, my boy," his mother interrupted, that dreaded far-away look taking over her features once more. "Now, face your court. They wish to see their new king."

Ferdinand frowned and stared back at his mother, but she didn't seem to notice. With a sigh he composed himself and turned around. Unbeknownst to him, that would be the last time he saw his mother.

As soon as he turned around, he was swept into the ballroom and submerged into a long night of festivities. Everyone wanted to speak with him and every lady sought to dance with him. It was a long time before he finally had a moment to himself and he retreated onto a balcony, relishing in the sharp night air.

"King Ferdinand," a voice greeted from behind him.

Whirling around, he found Eyriol standing in the threshold, his body bent in a respectful bow.

"Ah, Eyriol... Did you need something?"

At being addressed, the mage straightened and for a second didn't answer, simply staring past the newly crowned king.

"Have you noticed that the former queen has yet to be seen since the coronation?" Eyriol said suddenly, a strange look on his face. "Now, if you asked a guard, he'd tell you that she had retired for the night. But if you were to actually look in her chambers, what would you find?"

"What do you mean?" Ferdinand asked sharply. He could feel his heart beating faster as a feeling of dread crept upon him.

"I merely wanted to let you know that should you need our aid, you only need to call," the other man replied mysteriously before bowing once more and retreating into the ballroom.

Without another thought, Ferdinand quickly made his way to his mother's quarters. When he barged into her rooms, he was not surprised to find them dark and empty. All that he found was a letter on her desk, sealed with the House Crimea signet to denote its authenticity.

After all these years, Ferdinand still did not understand his mother. And as he stood, staring at her farewell letter, he wondered if he ever would.

* * *

If someone happened to be travelling down Capital Way the day after Prince Ferdinand's coronation, just as the sun was setting, that someone would see a woman riding a horse.

Though she sports a modest dress and travel-worn cloak, she carries herself with a confident air. She then stops and absently strokes the neck of her steed as it idly nibbles at the grass that grows along the road. Clearly, she is waiting for something. Or someone.

Less than a minute passes and a figure emerges from the trees that line both sides of Capital Way. He is a tall, muscular man with blue hair that is streaked with grey and a weather-beaten face. A broadsword is strapped to his back. He slowly walks towards the woman on the horse and nods to her, a smile on both their faces.

The woman shifts forward in her saddle and removes her foot from one of the stirrup. The man puts one hand on the back of the saddle and places a boot into the stirrup, swinging himself up behind her. As soon as he is settled behind her, the woman clicks her tongue and the horse sets off once more.

Not a word had been exchanged between the two. Whoever happened to be sharing the road with the couple shrugs at the strangeness of the situation before resuming their own trek, quickly forgetting about them as they became reoccupied with thoughts of what they were going to eat for supper.

* * *

Yeah, I just wanted Ike and Elincia to end up together. This was the only way that I could see them ever being together, though I know how unrealistic it would be for Elincia to abandon Crimea like that. Still, at the age of fifty-something with a fully capable son, I'd think that she'd still take the opportunity (but perhaps with more tact). Anyway, let me know what you think.

--FireEdge--


	12. Promise: HaarJill

It's been a while since I've written one of these, but this idea has been floating around in my head for quite a while now. I thought it'd be fun to play around with, so hopefully you'll enjoy what I've concocted.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Promise**

Theme: #20. Anger

Genre: General/Romance

Characters/Pairings: Haar/Jill

* * *

"NO!" Haar yelled, wide awake now, his palm slapping down on the table. "You _can't_ do that, Jill!"

The young woman took an involuntary step backwards, shocked. She had never seen Haar this angry before. His jaw was clenched, his brows drawn together, and she could see that he was quivering. In fact, the young woman could only recall three other times where he had shown such a vivid display of emotion.

The first time had been when she was six or seven. Her father had taken her to the medical ward, where Haar was apparently recovering from a bad injury. Shiharam had explained to her that during the sub-human hunt, Haar had lost his right eye and that she was not to make fun of the bandage, even if it looked funny.

When she saw Haar, she did indeed believe that the heavy bandages looked strange, but she listened to her father and did not comment on it. Instead, she had tried to make him feel better by telling him that one day, when she was to go on a sub-human hunt, she would make sure to take out one of their eyes for him.

However, instead of receiving a laugh and a hand ruffling her head, she received a sharp and surprised glare. He had then grabbed her shoulders and shook her. He had yelled at her, telling her to never say anything like that. Haar didn't stop yelling until Shiharam had stopped him. She had bawled afterwards, blubbering apologies and promised him that she would never say something so horrid in his presence again.

The second time had been when she was first put under his command in the army. Their unit had been ordered to quell a group of bandits harassing a mountain town. It was her first real mission and she had been brimming with anticipation. She would take down dozens of enemies and make her father proud.

However, when the battle started, Haar had ordered her to keep in the rear. She was furious at being kept out of the action. She had decided that, since she knew her captain so personally, that she could disobey his orders without major repercussions. The young girl then broke formation, rushed into the battle and was promptly taken down. Her wyvern was injured and she still had a scar on her arm from the wound she had sustained.

After the battle, Haar had walked into the healer's tent and lectured her, a furious look on his face. He had told her how stupidly she had behaved and that her disobeying orders not only endangered herself, but the entire platoon. In fact, if he wanted to, he could've charged her with treason for going against his commands, according to Daein law. Then, he had proceeded to demanding her what he would've done if she had gotten killed; what would he have told Shiharam?

Unbeknownst to him, his voice had steadily increased in volume and she was left quavering under his glare. She swore to him that she would never disobey a direct order again or put herself in such danger.

The third time that Jill remembered seeing Haar so angry had been during the battle on the Riven Bridge during the Mad King's War. The Crimean Liberation Army had finally made its way across the bridge and was face-to-face with one of Daein's Four Riders, General Petrine.

Haar had immediately demanded to be allowed to take down the Daein Rider. Much to Soren's protests, Ike had allowed him the opportunity.

When he had advanced on the other warrior, the look on his face had sent shivers down Jill's spine. His normally apathetic features had been so clouded with anger, hatred and vengeance that Jill hardly recognized it. He had almost radiated an aura of animosity. Then, when he had landed the killing blow, he seemed to still have been shaking with emotion.

After the battle, when the other soldiers tried to congratulate him, he had shoved past them and retreated. Of course, she had followed him and found her former captain standing alone, one hand over his face, breathing in and out slowly. She had watched him for several minutes before Haar finally spoke. He had calmed down and simply asked her to promise him that if he were ever to become that thirsty for blood, she would stop him no matter what.

Now, for the fourth time, Haar was displaying an unusual amount of chagrin. However, Jill could not grasp _why _he was so mad. Or rather, she knew why, but she really didn't care about his reasons. She was a grown woman of twenty-one years and she knew exactly what she wanted.

"Jill, I won't... I _can't_ agree to what you're asking," Haar stated firmly, beginning to settle down slightly.

"And why not?" she demanded, chin held high.

"Why not?! The reasons are endless! And don't pretend that you don't know them either! I don't even want to _imagine_ how Shiharam would react!" he exclaimed, losing his so recently regained cool.

"He wouldn't say anything! In fact, I bet that he'd approve!" Jill retorted as their eyes locked in an intent battle.

"Jill, please, for the love of everything that's holy, promise me you'll never ask that of me," Haar pleaded finally, breaking away from her gaze. He looked almost exhausted.

Jill grinned triumphantly as she stepped over to stand before him. She had won.

"No," she replied.

Before he could protest, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head down towards hers and kissed him.

* * *

Wow, despite all of the HaarJill stories I've written, I think this is the first one where they've actually kissed. Anyway, I'm sure you can all guess what Jill asked Haar and why he got so mad. Haar doesn't seem like the type to ever get angry, but I decided that there _have_ to have been some occasions where he lost control of his emotions. So, hopefully those incidents seemed realistic enough times for him to lose his cool. And yeah, that ending was super corny and cute. Sorry.

--FireEdge--


	13. Weak: Lyre, Kyza

Wow, it's been WAY too long since I've written anything. Anyway, I'm trying to get back into the swing of things again, and I figured that a FE one-shot would be good way of doing that. I was reading over some of my older works, more specifically _Ribbon, Bandages _and _Collar_, and I realize that I really miss writing about my favourite Gallian warriors. Also, Lyre and Kyza need some more love, so this little ficlet popped into my head.

Just a note: I'm not entirely sure where or when this one-shot takes place. Though, in my mind's eye, I'm imaging that battle in the river, you know, when all the laguz are hiding in the dark? But, I haven't touched FE10 in such a long time, I don't even remember the order of events anymore. Thus, if there are continuity errors… just ignore them. Either way, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Weak**

Theme: #27. Heavy

Genre: Tragedy

Characters/Pairings: Lyre, Kyza

_You're weak._

The words echoed through Lyre's head as she lost her footing in the muddy river once more and fell, losing what leverage she had fought so hard to gain as his body toppled on top of her.

_No, I'm not! _

Spluttering, Lyre coughed and spit out the dirty water that had invaded her mouth when she had momentarily gone under. Panting, she dug her fingers into the mud and managed to squirm out from underneath the weight that was pinning her down. Once she was free, the cat laguz turned towards the body and checked again, for the hundredth time, to see if it was in fact still a body and not corpse.

"… Kyza…?" she managed to choke out as she leaned over him.

The tiger didn't answer her, but she could hear his faint, ragged breathing. Letting out a relieved sigh, she shifted again, sliding her arms around his shoulders and heaving him up into a sitting position. She tried to ignore the burnt flesh and tattered uniform, which was now all coated in a film of grime, that met her hands as she, once again, began to slowly drag him back in the direction of—she hoped—the camp.

_You're weak._ The voice whispered again in her head. Whose voice it was, she couldn't tell. She'd heard those words so many times that the identities had all melted together and only a twisted and dark mess existed.

"No, I'm _not_!" Lyre muttered aloud, ignoring the tears that stung at her eyes as she struggled for every step. Despite the shallowness of the river she waded through, weeds and debris entangled her feet and, like ghastly hands, seemed to drag Kyza's body from her. It felt like every plant she past clung to him and weighed her down. If she could only shift into her laguz form, carrying him would be a great deal easier. However, she was exhausted from the earlier battle and it was taking every ounce of strength she had left to even move.

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?" Lyre yelled. She knew that she should be more cautious—what if an enemy heard her instead? However, the cat simply did not care anymore. Even with her feline eyes, the darkness was so thick that she couldn't tell where she was going anymore. She needed an indication, anything, that she was headed the right way. If there was an enemy, then that meant there were allies nearby.

"HELP! RANULF! LETHE! SOMEONE!" she cried out, each word becoming more desperate, for, deep down, she knew that no one would hear her.

"Please! He's _dying_!" Lyre choked out, failing to suppress a sob.

After a moment, she managed to control herself—though her face was still wet—and started to trudge forward once more, more determined now than before. Lyre was set on proving—to herself—that she was not weak. She would get Kyza back to the camp safely, and he would be fine.

_He will be fine._

As her foot caught on a snag buried in the mud, she stumbled, but managed to regain her balance without falling or dropping her burden. At that moment, she found it ironic that it had been Kyza who often told her that she was weak. That, though she was fast, speed wasn't everything, and if she couldn't deal any damage, she should stay out of the way in battle. She had always resented him for saying those things, though deep down inside, she knew he said them out of concern.

Of course, earlier that day, he'd given her that exact speech, and she had been so furious that she'd been careless in battle and had given chase when one of the enemy soldiers had run off. It was only after she'd been separated from the others that she realized it had been a trap to lure her away from the thick of the battle. There had been at least ten foot soldiers, and she was surrounded. Just when she thought that she was doomed, Kyza had charged in, and helped her take them down. However, just as the fight was about to turn in their favour, a fire mage had appeared, and a ball of bright, bright flame was shooting towards her, and she couldn't move and—

So caught up in her thoughts, Lyre wasn't aware of a lump in the ground before her, and it wasn't until her foot nudged against it that she looked down. It was the body of a Daein soldier, his face buried in the ground, with deep gashes torn into his back. The sight should've made her queasy, but it only brought her joy. They had returned to the battlefield.

Lyre's eyes widened and her breath quickened. They were finally here! Just a little further and they would be safe!

Filled with a renewed vigour, the cat laguz started forward again, trying to move faster. A little too fast, though, and she stumbled once again and toppled forward. Kyza's body landed across her once more and pinned her down, but she didn't care. She didn't feel weak anymore; she could fall a thousand times, but she knew that she would be able to get up again. Nothing could stop her now that the finish line was in sight.

And then she was suddenly aware of something as she lay underneath Kyza's body. His body felt colder than it had before, and infinitely more still. Then she realized that she could no longer feel his breathing… and the weight of this crushed her with ten times the strength than that of his body's could ever accomplish.

* * *

And, of course, right after I say that they need more love, I kill one of them off… Oops… But I've been really into tragedy lately. Maybe it's because being in school all summer is so depressing… Anyway, I don't really know what to make of this. It felt kind of awkward and it didn't really turn out the way I wanted it too. But at least it served its purpose as a warm-up back into writing. Let me know what you thought!

-FireEdge-


	14. Just Another Knight: Calill, Geoffrey

So, since my FE inspiration has so recently started coming back, I decided to act on it and try and write some more for this challenge.

In honour of the holidays, here's a sort of holiday story. Oh right, and this takes place post-FE10, but it's not necessary to have finished it to read this.

Just another note, since Christmas clearly wouldn't make sense as the name of a winter holiday in the world of FE, I decided to go with Yule as the name for their holiday, since it's more archaic and less specifically related to any deity (that I know of). It is not my intention to offend anyone with it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Just Another Knight…**

Theme: #95. A Party/Banquet

Genre: General/Humour

Characters/Pairings: Calill, the Crimean Royal Knights

* * *

Calill knew that it would be busy—it _was_ Yule, after all—and, after three years of running General Ike's Inn (the name had been kept despite said General's objections), she really should have been used to it by now. However, as she took a deep breath and stepped out from the kitchen and into the lobby once more, she could _swear_ that it was even busier and rowdier than usual.

The blonde woman quickly strode over to a table and set down four bowls of their famous beef stew and two loafs of bread from the tray that she balanced on one hand.

"Here you are, my dears," she said with a trained smile.

"Thanks, Calill!" the group of knights chorused, immediately starting to scramble over the bread.

She whirled away, dodging a couple of men who stumbled away from the bar, and slipped behind the counter. Calill placed the empty tray on the counter for the dish girl to pick up and grabbed another tray of food. Before she could step from behind the counter, however, a familiar face slid into her line of vision.

"Cawill! Gimme… gimme anoder… anoder ale!" Makalov mumbled, slumping down on the counter with a lopsided grin.

"Pay your tab first, mister," Calill replied, wrinkling her nose before ignoring the drunken paladin.

She was vaguely aware of Marcia rushing up to Makalov from the corner of her vision, and didn't need to see any more to know that the young woman had probably smacked him.

After delivering the food to its table, and picking up some empty dishes from another, she couldn't help but notice that there was a large amount of Crimean Knights that night. It was no secret that the inn she ran with Largo was popular among the Knights, but she could swear that _everyone_ in there was one.

As she made her way back to the bar, she saw a familiar blue head sitting on a stool at the counter.

"Ah, Geoffrey, my dear!" she chortled, sliding behind the counter, dropping off her tray on the way.

"Calill! You've been so busy tonight I haven't had a chance to speak with you at all!" the young general replied with a wide grin. It seemed that he had been drinking as well, for he didn't usually come off so exuberantly. Not that the sage was complaining; it was nice to see him loosen up a little bit.

"Well, the place is filled to the brim with you people! Are all the knights in Melior here tonight or something?"

"Maybe," Geoffrey answered with an uncharacteristically mischievous smile.

"CALILL!" someone called from the west side of the dining area.

"Duty calls," Calill said to the man before her and flashed him her trademark smile before dashing off to appease her customers.

Arriving at the table, she found Kieran and Oscar seated with several other of their comrades.

"And what can I do for you gentlemen?" she asked.

"It's nothing, Calill. We didn't mean to bother you, Kieran was just being—" Oscar started to say, but was immediately cut off by the redhead who sat across from him.

"Being what? Don't you weasel your way out of this, you squinty-eyed fiend! You agreed to a drinking contest with me, and don't you dare back out! You brought it upon yourself by claiming that you're better than me!" Kieran bellowed, and Calill could see the spittle flying from his mouth in his indignation.

"I said no such thing, Kieran. I just said that maybe you shouldn't drink anymore, since you're clearly drunk already and I really don't want to have to drag you back to the castle later," Oscar replied with a sigh.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY MOTHER?"

Calill raised an eyebrow and looked at the green-haired paladin, who sighed and slapped a hand to his face before simply waving her away dismissively, indicating that she could go and he'd deal with the problem.

As she swept her gaze around the large lobby, she saw that some of her hired help was busy cleaning tables and one was serving more food. So far, everything seemed to be in order, despite how crowded it was.

No one else seemed to notice the front door swing open, nearly knocking down a knight who was passing by, and three newcomers stepped in. Calill knew two of them by face, but not name, and the third was a pretty, black-haired female. She hadn't noticed that Astrid wasn't already there.

Someone else called her name; this time it was one of her staff. Heading over to the counter, she helped him serve out drinks as more people began to crowd around the bar. They were starting to run out of clean cups, and she immediately grabbed a bin, tossed the used ones in and brought them to the back.

The kitchen was just as noisy as the front end. Largo was stirring a pot at one of the stoves, and several of his helpers were busy chopping ingredients. A young boy sat in the corner peeling potatoes, and another entered through the front door, shaking off the snow as he brought in extra firewood.

Calill didn't like doing dishes, but the dish girl was clearly feeling overwhelmed, and Calill walked over to help her dry some of the much-needed mugs.

"Calill, are those guys out there almost finshed eating now? I'm almost done these next few orders, but are there more coming?" Largo asked, his deep voice carrying over the crackle of fire and the chattering of the other workers.

"A few more have come in, but no one else seems to be ordering anything. I think the night's starting to wind down. It'll probably just be the bar that will still be busy," she replied in an equally loud voice.

"Thank the goddess!" some of the kitchen workers chorused.

"CALILL!"

The sage recognized the shrill voice of one of her servers.

"What is it?" she asked, as she stepped out of the kitchen, seeing the girl looking rather panicked.

"Calill, I tried stopping them, but they wouldn't listen!" the girl squeaked.

Calill's eyes followed the girl's outstretched arm and couldn't believe what she was seeing. The main area of the dining room was empty. And not just of people. It seems that the knights had pushed the tables around and cleared a large space right in the middle of the lobby.

"Calill!" Geoffrey called, sidling up to the counter. "I hope you don't mind, but some of the Knights brought out their instruments. Someone demanded dancing, and well… I told them to wait and ask you, but…"

"Hmm, well, it's all right, I suppose," Calill replied with a small smile. She could already hear the instruments being tuned and some of the men had started singing raucously. At least, they'd stopped eating.

She sent her workers to clean the empty tables, since most of the patrons had now gathered in a loose ring around the empty dance floor. As she helped them clear away the empty plates, she heard a fiddle strike up a country jig and many of the knights cheered, starting to clap their hands and stomp their feet.

A little while later, while wiping clean a table close to the dance floor, she heard the music change and a fast-paced waltz began playing, accompanied by a flute.

The sage heard more cheers, and laughter. Looking up, she saw that Makalov had stumbled onto the newly vacated dance floor, dragging a flustered-looking Astrid behind him. Though she smiled, her face was red with embarrassment as she practically had to support the pink-haired man as he tried to lead the dance.

"Makalov, you ninny! Stop making a fool of yourself!" she heard Marcia shriek as other couples started to waltz, some just as drunkenly as her brother.

"Allow me," Oscar interrupted, stepping onto the dance floor. He quickly dislodged Astrid from Makalov, who seemed to now be fully supported by the petite woman, and the drunken man nearly collapsed onto the floor. Some of the other men grabbed his arms and dropped him unceremoniously onto a chair where he seemed to fall asleep.

"Oh, you think you're so… so SUAVE!" Kieran cried, loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room. "I won't let you show me up! I can dance just as well as you can!"

Calill couldn't make out Oscar's answer, but he could see him mouth something as he made an exasperated face over Astrid's shoulder.

"MARCIA! HONOUR ME WITH A DANCE!"

"What?"

More laughter erupted from the crowd as Kieran pulled a horror-stricken Marcia away from her brother and onto the dance floor. For someone who had drunk so much, Calill couldn't help but notice that Kieran didn't make a half-bad dancer. Until he started moving too fast and ran right into one of the other dancers.

Then the yelling came.

Before it could turn into an all-out brawl, Calill quickly strode to the counter and pulled out one of the drawers. She always kept one in there for occasions such as these. Her inn was renowned for the lack of fights for a good reason.

The Knights all let out yelps of surprise and the instigators of the would-be fight were picked up from the dance floor by a gust of wind and dropped back down from a height that, while not causing them harm, would knock some sense back into them.

"Behave yourselves," Calill chided, tapping a finger against her Wind tome, as the entire lobby silenced and looked at her with wide eyes.

After giving them a smile, the music quickly resumed and, seeing that most of the restaurant had been cleaned, allowed her staff to take a well-deserved break.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but as Calill shoved the last straggling knight out of the door and slammed it shut, she let out a sigh. At last, peace and quiet.

* * *

Say what, my title's a pun? Oh ho! Sorry, the lameness of it had to be done.

Anyway, sorry it's so short and choppy seeming, but my intention was to portray the story from the point of view of a waiter (in this case, Calill) in a restaurant at Christmas time. So they're more like snapshots of moments here and there among a whirl of faces and action.

Either way, hope it was somewhat enjoyable. Please leave a review with thoughts and/or criticism! Happy holidays everyone!

-FireEdge-


	15. Gone Fishin': HaarJill

So, while at my friend's party the other night, "Fishin' In The Dark" started to play and _everyone_ in the entire room began to sing along. Which reminded me of how awesomely fun this song is (even if you don't like country music, it's just such a simple and catchy tune). Then, for some reason, I thought: "Wow, wouldn't it be such a Haar move to drag Jill along to go fishing in the middle of the night?" And THAT is how this happened (also, I felt like I needed to write something with these two again)… Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Gone Fishin'**

Theme: #32. My Pace

Genre: Romance

Characters/Pairings: Haar/Jill

* * *

"_**You and me going fishin' in the dark  
Lying on our backs and counting the stars  
Where the cool grass grows  
Down by the river in the full moon light  
We'll be fallin' in love in the middle of the night  
Just movin' slow  
Stayin' the whole night through, it feels so good to be with you."  
**_**-"Fishin' In The Dark" by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

* * *

**

"We're going to _what_?" Jill exclaimed, looking up from the paper she held in her hands. It was a checklist of all the things that needed to be done, along with a list of deliveries—of which there was an uncanny amount. She had just been enumerating them to Haar, when he'd interrupted her.

"I said, we're going to go fishing," he repeated, not bothering to move from his position sprawled on the couch.

"Are you serious? Were you even listening to me? We have so much to get done! We don't have _time _to go fishing!" Jill replied, her voice pitching a little higher than she had intended it to.

"We're not going now… we'll go tonight. Plenty of time to get a chunk of that list crossed off."

"Tonight? That doesn't make any sense. How're we supposed to see the fish?" she demanded with a frown.

Haar yawned before saying: "Don't worry about it."

* * *

"I can't believe I let you drag me out here," Jill muttered, cringing slightly when she put her hand into a muddy spot on the ground as she sat down.

They were settled on the grassy banks of a stream that ran near the town. As Haar had promised, it was the middle of the night, and she could just make out stars through a thin layer of clouds.

"Here," Haar said—ignoring her griping—handing her a fishing rod. The live bait was already squirming on the hook.

Jill frowned as she took the rod from him.

"How am I supposed to cast it? There's hardly any moonlight, and I can't even tell if there're fish in the water, it's so dark."

"Just cast it in. As long as you toss it in front of you, you're bound to hit the water," he replied with a shrug, tossing his line into the stream.

The young woman shot him a look, but did as he said, and indeed heard a small splash as the hook sank into the water.

They sat silent and unmoving for nearly half an hour before Jill began to fidget. She hated fishing; she never had the patience for it, and added to that, she could think of a million things that needed to be done. Her right index finger tapped against her thigh impatiently and she found that she was grinding her teeth. All she could hear was the gentle gurgling of the stream and a frog that was croaking nearby. She was about ready to throw her fishing rod—preferably at Haar's head.

Jill turned to say something to him, but as she did so, she let out a squeak. Haar had pressed a rough finger against her lips.

"Shut up, you'll scare away the fish," he whispered hoarsely, bringing his face very close to hers so that his voice didn't carry.

The young woman resisted the urge to scramble up and run away, instead settling for blushing furiously. For the first time that night, she was glad that it was pitch black out.

Haar leaned back and Jill nearly let out a sigh of relief. However, a moment later, she felt the rod that she held in her hand jerk, and her head snapped around to squint at the water. Though her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, she could not distinguish the fine wire of her fishing line.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" Haar asked, and she realized that she had been staring blankly at the water without doing anything.

Blinking, Jill shook her head and pulled back on the rod, the insistent tugging of the fish growing stronger. There was a brief moment of resistance, and then she felt the pressure snap and there was a slapping sound as something broke through the surface of the water. At some point, she had stood up, and as the line flew through the air, she lost her balance and slipped on the wet, muddy ground.

However, instead of landing hard on the ground, she fell against an equally solid, but much warmer, surface. She was balanced awkwardly on one foot, and Haar's arms were braced around her. Then, without warning, he let himself drop down, falling lightly to the ground with her pressed to his chest.

"Wh-What are you doing?" Jill squeaked, as her throat seemed to constrict.

"Relaxing. So should you," he replied lazily.

"But what about the fish?"

"The line broke."

"Oh…" she said, half muffled by his shirt.

"Look up, the clouds are clearing," he added suddenly.

Wriggling out of his grasp, she settled on her back next to him, ignoring the mud that seeped through the back of her shirt. Her left arm was pressed against Haar's side, and she was hyper-aware of the warmth of his body in comparison to the cool earth beneath her. Above them, the dark clouds that had previously covered the stars and half moon had started to drift southwards.

"Wow, they're pretty bright tonight, huh?" she remarked, counting the stars that twinkled down at her.

A second passed, and there was no reply. Frowning, she pushed herself up onto one elbow and turned to look at her companion. He had dozed off, his one visible eye closed, and his chest rising and falling gently.

Jill's lips twitched into a smile. Settling back down again, she let out a long breath before snuggling up against his body and closing her eyes.

* * *

Uh yeah, I actually don't know how to fish. But I figured in the olden days of the FE world, a stick and wire with a hook would do the trick! Anyway, just something short, fluffy and rather meaningless. Thanks for reading!

-FireEdge-


	16. The Right Words: LanceClarine

This has been sitting around on my computer for a while now, and I've finally had the time to come back to it. This will be my first attempt at writing something from FE6. I'm not as familiar with it as I am with FE7 and FE9/10, but after reading a story featuring Lance and Clarine that was written for me, I just had to try and give it a shot myself… Anyway, I know I'm probably the only person who likes this pairing (not that I _dislike_ Rutger/Clarine, but Lance/Clarine is just so CUTE), but I will write it anyway. Lance needs love too!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**The Right Words**

Theme: #4. A Faithful Knight

Genre: Romance

Characters/Pairings: Lance/Clarine

* * *

_A knight must serve his master, and only his master. One who forgets that can no longer be called a knight._

They were words that he had spoken mere days ago. While he did not regret the words in themselves, the instant that they had left his mouth, he wished that he could have taken them back. He often chided Allen for his lack of tact, yet he had thoughtlessly hurt the feelings of a young girl.

When he had said them to Clarine, her eyes had widened in shock, her mouth a small 'o'. At that moment, he knew that he had said the wrong thing. He had no doubts that he was correct, but he should've found another way to word it. Lady Clarine was a young girl—fifteen years-old, he guessed—caught in a war, far from home and familiar faces. She had looked to him for support, something to hold on to during the raging battles—how could he have been so callous as to rebuke her plea for help?

_I am a wretched human being… How can I call myself a knight when I cannot even bring myself to protect those who need to be defended?_

The young man had been dwelling on the issue for days now, unable to dispel the guilt. To make matters worse, Clarine—who had thus far made a point to seat herself by him for at least one meal a day—had been avoiding him since that conversation. Not that he had made much of an effort to seek her out, himself. He had thought about it, but realized that even if he did, he wouldn't know what to say.

Lance sighed and raked a hand through his short, green hair. Well, for now, he had to forget about it. They were about to march out to battle, and he needed to focus on the fight—and protecting Master Roy.

Indeed, once the battle started, his mind automatically narrowed in on the task at hand. He flanked his red-haired master along with several other Pheraean knights. It seemed that they were winning, and most of the enemies had been routed.

However, just as they were pushing forward to capture the fort, a messenger rode up to Roy.

"Master Roy! Some of the troops on the outskirts of the battlefield have spotted bandits coming down from the mountains to take advantage of the chaos. We believe that a nearby village is in danger of being ransacked. Do you have any orders, sir?"

"Hmm… Do you know their numbers?" Roy asked.

"Perhaps twenty or so, but no more than fifty at last count," the messenger answered.

"The village is just to the east, if I remember correctly," the young lord said, more to himself than anyone else. "We may be able to take advantage of this…"

"My lord?" Lance questioned, as his master lapsed into silence.

"Sorry, Lance, I was just thinking," he replied, shaking his head. Turning to the messenger, he said: "Tell the troops there to gather and start moving out towards the village. I will take a few more men with me and join them."

"Yes, sir."

As the messenger left, Lance frowned.

"Master Roy, are you sure you should be going on such a detour? If they are only bandits, the other troops should be able to take care of them easily. The troops here at the front line may lose morale without their leader at their head."

"Worry not, Lance, I have a plan. As you stated, the logical thing to do would be for me to stay here, with the bulk of the army. However, that is what the enemy expects. If I sneak around behind the castle, via the village, the defences there will be weaker. While the main army distracts the soldiers out front, we will seize the castle. Fewer lives will be lost this way."

"Ah, I see… I apologize for questioning you. Please allow me to accompany you," Lance replied, slightly ashamed that he had bothered to question the red-haired lord.

"Of course. You and Allen gather a small troop of able men and we will head off."

"Right away, my lord."

Turning his horse about, he went in search of his men.

It wasn't long before their squad of knights reached the other side of the battlefield, where he knew another unit of the army had been deployed. The village was within sight, and they could just make out the glint of sun reflected on armour.

"Allen, you head towards the village and make sure everyone is safe. Lance, come with me to help the other troops. They are far from the main army, so they must not have been relieved recently—they will need as much help as they can get."

Lance nodded and gestured for his men to follow after their lord. As they drew abreast to the fighters, he noticed that there were actually many more bandits than they had originally been informed of. Still, the cavalier was sure that the skirmish would turn in their favour. After all, they had superior tactics and equipment—a bunch of vagabonds would never stand a chance.

The knights around him let out a battle cry as they charged towards the brigands, Roy at their helm. Lance brought up the rear, using his sharp eyes to scan the battlefield for an ambush. Instead, he spotted something else that made his throat constrict and draw his horse up short.

The battle against the bandits had split itself into two or three groups, and, in the near distance, he could see that one group was faltering. They were surrounded, and clearly outnumbered. There were three members of their army against five bandits. A foot soldier who was acting as the main line of defence, an archer—a girl with short hair and a strong arm whose name he couldn't quite remember, though he'd often seen her about the camp—who fired arrows from behind the soldier, and…Lady Clarine.

It was the most inappropriate—yet the most appropriate—time for his worries of earlier that day to come back to him. For a split second, he forgot that he was on a battlefield, that he could be killed if he let his guard down, and he froze, unsure of what to do. He knew that he should join Roy and the rest of the knights to take down the main group of bandits. However, should he not aid his comrades who were in need of help? All of the tactical books he had read stated that breaking rank was one of the best ways to sow chaos in battle, and that actions should not be taken unless ordered by the leader… Yet…

A shriek filled the air, and Lance's eyes widened. One of the bandits, a large brute of a man, had tackled the foot soldier aside and charged at the young troubadour. Her horse shied away, rearing up on its hind legs, and the young noblewoman toppled down from her saddle, landing on the ground. The archer shot an arrow at the bandit in an attempt to distract him from their healer, and the bandit hesitated, unsure of who to kill first.

This, Lance took in all at once, his mind whirring. However, though the gears in his head spun, he felt nothing but pure adrenaline. For once, he didn't have a plan, and there existed only one thought as he kicked his horse into a gallop, tearing away from his troops and charging towards the wounded bandit.

He prided his mount as one of the fastest of Pherae's horses, and it did not disappoint. His horse let out a ferocious whinny as they cleared the distance in a matter of seconds and, with a practised stroke, his steel sword slit the throat of the bandit. He whirled his mount around quickly and leapt over the dead body before bearing down upon another enemy.

Perhaps his arrival had renewed the fervour of the other two soldiers, for the archer quickly notched another arrow and let it fly, piercing through the eye of another bandit that was stunned at the sudden appearance of the cavalier. The foot soldier also claimed a victory with a spectacular toss of his javelin. It wasn't long before the last enemy fell, but with their triumph, Lance began to feel the rush from the battle begin to fade—a sobering feeling—and this time he felt more apprehensive than usual.

Lance dismounted from his horse and stepped towards Clarine, who still sat on the ground, looking somewhat dazed. As he knelt beside her, his green eyes scanned the length of her body; from what he could see, she had no serious injuries, though there was a nasty scrape on her leg and she was bound to feel bruised tomorrow.

"Lady Clarine, are you all right?" he asked softly, wanting to reach out his hand to touch her, to make sure she was actually there and in one piece, but resisting the urge. He had no right to.

"Lady Clarine...?" the cavalier repeated, when the troubadour did not respond and only stared at him.

"Ah... I'm... I'm fine... of course," she replied finally, though her voice broke a little towards the end, and he could see that her delicate jaws were clenched. Perhaps the fall had hurt her more than he'd originally believed.

"Can you stand, Lady Clarine?" Lance asked, noting that the battle had dishevelled the young woman greatly. Many strands of her hair had fallen loose of the neat ponytail she usually sported, and she was covered in the dust of battle—much of it probably accumulated from her tumble.

"... Yes, I believe so. I am much stronger than that, you see," the young girl answered, pushing herself up slowly from the ground. However, as she moved her injured leg, she cringed and barely stifled a whimper before she sat back down on the ground. It was hard to tell through her boots, but he had a feeling that she had sprained her right ankle when she fell.

"My lady, if you will pardon my forwardness, please allow me to carry you," Lance blurted out. The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he had spoken and, once he'd realized exactly what he'd said, his eyes widened slightly in surprise. The young girl before him looked just as startled.

"W-Well... I... I don't think that will be necessary," Clarine replied, wincing again as she tried to stand again, this time succeeding. However, he could see sweat beading on her forehead.

"Clarine, stop being stubborn and let him help you," a voice spoke up suddenly. "Your leg's scraped up pretty bad, and you need to get yourself to a healer."

Lance stared at the archer who had just spoken. He had completely forgotten that there were other people around, or that he was still on the battlefield.

"Please, Lady Clarine, let me help you," he repeated, locking his eyes with hers. To others, it was a simple request, but he knew that Clarine would understand that he also asked for her forgiveness.

"Well… since you asked so nicely, I will allow you the honour of bearing me," Clarine answered after a moment of thought, and he noted that she avoided his gaze as she spoke.

"Thank you, my lady," he murmured before crouching down slightly and gathering her in his arms. One of his hands braced against the small of her back and the other settled beneath her knees. When he swung her up, her arms wrapped themselves loosely around his neck.

The cavalier carried her to his horse and helped her seat herself sideways on the front of the saddle, making sure that she could balance herself before he mounted and settled behind her. Turning to look at the archer and soldier, he saw that they had reined in Clarine's horse and the soldier gave him a nod.

Facing forwards again, Lance nudged his horse into a brisk walk, heading back towards Roy and the main troops. Once he delivered Clarine to one of the other healers, he would tell his master to give the appropriate punishment for disobeying orders and abandoning him mid-battle. The young knight was starting to plan out what he would say, and how he would say it, when Clarine spoke.

"Why did you come help me—us, I mean," the young Etrurian noble asked, looking up at him with a steady gaze. He always wondered where one as young as herself found so much confidence. It had to do with being a noble, he supposed, but she was nothing like the demure ladies of the court he'd met before.

"What do you mean, my lady?" he asked, genuinely surprised. He knew that he may have been overly harsh in telling her before that he could not be her personal bodyguard, but to question his willingness to aid her when she was in danger?

"I saw you," she said, looking away from him now. "Well, I heard you all first, but then I saw Lord Roy leading you all towards the leader of the bandits. I could see you among them."

"... I see..." But he didn't, really.

"I was relieved to see you all, since there were more bandits than we could handle. But I wasn't expecting any of you to help finish off the smaller fights. The priority would be to defeat the leader, and we really were quite capable of handling ourselves. Dorothy, James, and I were doing fine. Well, until that ruffian scared my horse," she added, her pert nose wrinkling slightly in disgust.

Lance thought that he should say something, but had a feeling she wasn't finished speaking quite yet. Then again, when he thought about it, he didn't really know what he could say. She hadn't been off the dot with her deduction. Lord Roy's plan had been to take down the leader of the bandits and his immediate retinue, which would then sow confusion among the other bandits scattered around the area.

"When I fell, and saw that man coming towards me, I... I... really thought that I might die." Clarine's voice had dropped to a whisper, and he wasn't sure if he was meant to have heard it. However, he did not even need to hear what she had said; her face displayed her fear. He didn't think he had ever seen such an expression on her face before, and he was suddenly reminded of the fact that she was just barely an adult.

"Lady Clarine—"

"Hush, Lance. I'm not finished talking," she interrupted, that one glimpse of weakness gone in an instant, and she was suddenly the same Clarine he was now so used to seeing. "Like I was saying, I really didn't expect any of you to head over to us right away, and it wasn't like we were very noticeable anyway."

_Well, I think we all heard you scream_, Lance thought, but decided that it would be unwise to voice that thought.

"So why did you come help us, then? I may not be a military commander, but I have a feeling that you weren't following any kind of order when you came to us."

"And what makes you think that, Lady Clarine?" he asked, feeling like he needed to defend himself, though half-heartedly at that. Maybe he didn't want to admit to himself that he had indeed gone against orders.

"You were alone."

"Ah..." She was sharper than he gave her credit for.

"But... Thank you," she murmured, and though he wore his armour, he could feel her lean closer to him—or maybe he was imagining it, since there really wasn't that much room for her on his horse.

They lapsed into silence, and he could see up ahead that the battle was finished. As they approached the other knights, Lance suddenly recalled something that had been told to him during his travels—before he had settled down in Pherae. He had been at an inn in Caelin, and an ex-knight had chatted with him, bought him a drink. The other man had been very friendly, though he had a funny way of talking—overly flowery, he thought—but he certainly knew how to spin a tale.

_You remind me of one of my dearest friends_, the man had said to him. _Duty and loyalty are indeed the life blood of a knight. But protecting the weak and aiding those in need are just as important. There is no country without its people, right? Well, I think that applies to its knights as well. That's why it's important to keep in mind that blind loyalty is not an asset. You have to be able to see the big picture... Oh, my apologies, I must be boring you. Shall I tell you a story about love, instead?_

Lance was pretty sure that the man had been somewhat inebriated, but when he had spoken, he had looked very pensive, as if he were in another world.

"My lady, do you remember what I told you about the duties of a knight?"

"How could I forget?" He thought he heard her mutter, but he wasn't entirely sure—it was a rather funny thing to say, after all.

"My lady?"

"Nothing! What about what you said before?" she replied, waving a gloved hand dismissively.

"Well... I still stand by what I told you, but... to answer your question from before, let me pose a question in return. How can I be a faithful knight if I cannot protect those I care about?"

From the look that covered her face, he knew that he had finally said the right thing.

* * *

This notion has been floating around in my head ever since I read Lance and Clarine's B support, and now I've finally had the guts to write it out. The style is also very heavily inspired by Improvisation's (the former Kitten Kisses) _Reprieve_ (you should read it if you haven't already!), and was partially the reason why I finally decided to write this idea out.

Anyway, like I said before, this is my first attempt at an FE6 story, so hopefully the characterization was okay. Leave a review and let me know what you thought! Bonus experience for those who can guess who the (very, very obvious) knight at the end was!

-FireEdge-


	17. Rhythms: HaarJill

Oh man, it's been so, so, so long since I've posted anything, but I just randomly had an idea for a short one-shot. It seriously has nothing to do with anything, and it really is just a mental puff that was inspired by reading one of Kitten Kisses' lovely one-shots. But may as well get it down while it's there and make use of it! Anyway, sorry to disappoint anyone who was expecting anything deep, but nowadays school eats my brain and then spits it back out again every few hours. Please enjoy this random ficlet!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Rhythms**

Theme: #89. Heartbeat

Genre: Romance

Characters/Pairings: Haar/Jill

* * *

She had memorized them all. She distinctly remembered every single rhythm that his heart made. There had been so many times, for so many reasons, where she had found herself pressed against his chest. She had felt each beat reverberate through her own body. Over time she had noticed that there were different patterns, depending on the situation, depending on how he was felt.

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

There was his regular heartbeat. She always thought that, by virtue of being so lethargic, that it would be slower, more languid. However, when she had ridden in front of him on his wyvern, she had felt this rhythm against her back. Steady and strong.

Even when they had visited her father's grave after the war and she had broken down and cried in his arms, it had remained constant, despite her own erratic heartbeat.

_Ba-dump… Ba-dump… Ba-dump…_

As she had expected, his heartbeat was slower and softer when he slept. The first time she had felt this, she had been a child, torso sprawled across his chest as she napped with him after an intensive play session. He made a surprisingly good baby-sitter, since he would always go along with whatever game she wanted to play – though in hindsight, it might have been because she would throw a deadly temper tantrum if he refused her. As far as she was concerned though, his best skill as her keeper had always been making sure she always took her daily nap.

_Ba-dumpBa-dumpBa-dump._

It wasn't often that she would hear his pulse race. She had always supposed that it would beat faster when he was in battle, but she never had been able to test that out – it would've been much too impractical to hug him in the middle of a fight just to satisfy her curiosity. However, she had discovered this new rhythm in other ways. Two events always stayed fresh in her mind, etched into her memory.

The first event had been when she was training with him in a mountainous area on the outskirts of Talrega. A bad rain-storm had occurred a few nights previous, but they hadn't realized that the sides of the mountain had been so badly assaulted by the waters. It was not until they had heard the rumbling and felt dust and small pebbles showering down on their heads that they had become aware of the danger. He had grabbed her arm and half-guided, half-dragged her into a sprint as they rushed to find a safe zone. When they had finally found a small rock shelter protruding from the mountainside, he had pulled her flush against his body as they waited out the rockslide they had narrowly missed.

The second event had been on their wedding night, when he'd pulled her into the bed that they would, from then on, share. That night, he had been the most awake that she'd ever seen him, and his heartbeat had certainly reflected his heightened mood.

_Ba-dump… … … Ba-dump… … … Ba-dump… … … _

As she laid there at that moment on their bed, with her back against his chest and his arms draped lightly around her, she realized that she had never felt this rhythm before. However, though it was entirely new to her, she knew exactly what it meant. And though she felt a hollowing pain in her chest and a sickening lurch in her stomach as her mind tried to come to terms with a reality she'd been fighting for the past several days, she supposed that to really say she'd memorized every single rhythm, today would have had to come eventually.

* * *

So as not to be a complete downer, this takes place in their old age! Haar lived a full and HAPPY life! Anyway, hope that this wasn't too terrible to read considering I haven't written anything for more than a year (I'm using an awkward weird verb tense, I know). Hope to see you all around again soon… maybe?

-FireEdge-


End file.
